Another Sunrise
by 9PoisonIvy9
Summary: Carried on from 'A Midnight's Dream'. Please don't read just to flame. Spoilers for book 5,6 and 7. No slash. I recommend you read 'A Midnight's Dream' first otherwise you may not understand the story.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 2

An Excess of Phlegm

Harry and Dumbledore approached the back door of The Burrow, which was surrounded by the familiar litter of old wellington boots and rusty cauldrons; Harry could hear the soft clucking of sleepy chickens coming from a distant shed. Dumbledore knocked three times and Harry saw sudden movement behind the kitchen window.

"Don't worry Mrs Weasley" came a young girl's voice which Harry immediately recognised as Emma. "If it is a Death Eater, I'll blast them into oblivion."

"Who's there?" Emma asked calmly. "Declare yourself!"

"It is I, Albus Dumbledore, bringing Harry Potter."

The door opened at once. There stood Emma, petite with her long red hair cascading down just past her knees.

"Harry!" Emma exclaimed, jumping at him and hugging him tightly. Harry chuckled and patted her on the back.

"Miss me much?" he teased her.

Mrs Weasley came rushing to the door, short, plump and wearing an old green dressing-gown.

"Harry, dear! Gracious, Albus, you gave us a fright, you said not to expect you before morning!"

"We were lucky" said Dumbledore, ushering Harry over the threshold. "Slughorn proved much more persuadable than I had expected. Harry's doing, of course. Ah, hello, Nymphadora!"

Harry looked around and saw that Mrs Weasley and Emma weren't the only ones awake, despite the lateness of the hour. A young witch with a pale, hear-shaped face and mousy-brown hair was sitting at the table clutching a large mug between her hands.

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore" she said. "Wotcher, Harry."

"Hi, Tonks."

Harry thought she looked drawn, even ill, and there was something forced in her smile. Certainly her appearance was less colourful than usual without her customary shade of bubblegum-pink hair.

"I'd better be off" she said quickly, standing up and pulling her cloak around her shoulders. "Thanks for the tea and sympathy, Molly, Emma."

"Please don't leave on my account" said Dumbledore courteously. "I cannot stay, I have urgent matters to discuss with Rufus Scrimgeour."

Emma made an odd hissing noise at the name.

"No, no, I need to get going" said Tonks, not meeting Dumbledore's eyes. "Night..."

"Dear, why not come to dinner at the weekend, Remus and Mad-Eye are coming...?"

"No, really, Molly... thanks anyway... goodnight everyone."

Tonks hurried past Dumbledore and Harry into the yard; a few paces beyond the doorstep, she turned on the spot and vanished into thin air, Harry noticed that Mrs Weasley and Emma looked troubled.

"Well, I shall see you two at Hogwarts, Harry and Emma" said Dumbledore. "Take care of yourself. Molly, your servant."

He made Mrs Weasley a bow and followed Tonks, vanishing at precisely the same spot. Mrs Weasley closed the door on the empty yard and then steered Harry and Emma by the shoulders into the full glow of the lantern on the table and started to examine Harry's appearance.

"You're like Ron" she sighed, looking him up and down. "Both of you look as though you've had Stretching Jinxes put on you I swear Ron's grown four inches since I last bought him school robes. Why can't you two be more like Emma? Are you hungry, Harry?"

"Yeah, I am" said Harry, suddenly realising just how hungry he was.

"Si down, dear, I'll knock something up."

"Not fare" Emma grumbled. "I've grown half an inch over the summer. That has got to count for something!"

"Not much" Harry teased her as he sat down in the nearest chair. As he sat down, though, a furry ginger cat with a squashed face jumped on to his knees and settled there, purring.

"So Hermione's here?" he asked happily as he tickled Crookshanks behind the ear.

"Yeah, she arrived the day before yesterday" said Emma, stroking Crookshanks gently.

"Everyone's in bed, of course" Mrs Weasley added. "We didn't expect you for hours. Here you are..."

She tapped the pot again; it rose into the air, flew towards Harry and tipped over; Mrs Weasley slid a bowl neatly beneath it just in time to catch the stream of thick, steaming onion soup.

"Bread, dear?"

"Thanks, Mrs Weasley."

She waved her wand over her shoulder; a loaf of bread and a knife soared gracefully on to the table. As the loaf sliced itself and the soup pot dropped back on the stove, Mrs Weasley sat down opposite him.

"Guess what, Harry" Emma grinned, holding up her left hand and moving her fingers. "George proposed to be yesterday.

"Congratulation" Harry grinned back.

"Thanks" Emma laughed. Harry noticed how Emma's eyes shone and the way she bounced in her seat and knew that she was happy and that George was the right one for her. Not that he had any doubts or something.

"So you persuaded Horace Slughorn to take the job?" Mrs Weasley asked.

Harry nodded his mouth no so full of hot soup that he could not speak.

"He taught Arthur and me" said Mrs Wesley. "He was at Hogwarts for aged, started around the same time as Dumbledore, I think. Did you like him?"

His mouth now full of bread, Harry shrugged and gave a non-committal jerk of the head.

"I know what you mean" Mrs Weasley, nodding wisely. "Of course he can be charming when he wants to be, but Arthur's never liked him very much. The Ministry's littered with Slughorn's old favourites, he was always good at giving leg-ups, but he never had much time for Arthur- didn't seem to think he was enough of a high-flier. Well, that just shows you, even Slughorn makes mistakes. I don't know whether Ron or Emma's told you in any of their letters- it's only just happened- but Arthur's been promoted!"

It could not have been clearer that Mrs Weasley had been bursting to say this just as much as Emma had wanted to tell Harry she was engaged. Harry swallowed a large amount of very hot soup and though he could feel his throat blistering.

"That's great!" he just managed to gasp out.

"You are sweet" beamed Mrs Weasley, possible taking his watering eyes for emotion at the news. Emma giggled but was kind enough to stop his throat hurting with her wand and to cool down the soup a bit. "Yes, Rufus Scrimgeour has set up several new offices in response to the present situation, and Arthur's heading the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defence Spells and Protective Objects. It's a big job; he's got ten people reporting to him now!"

"What exactly...?"

Emma shot him a glance that said plainly _now you've done it._

"Well, you see, in all the panics about You-Know-Who, odd things have been cropping up for sale everywhere, things that are supposed to guard against You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters. You can imagine the kind of thing- so-called protective potions that are really gravy with bit of Bubotuber pus added, or instructions for defensive jinxes that actually make your ears fall off... well, in the main the perpetrators are just people like Mundungus Fletcher, who've never done an honest day's work in their lives and are taking advantage of how frightened everybody is, but every now and then something really nasty turns up. The other day Arthur confiscated a box of cursed Sneakoscopes that were almost certainly planted by a Death Eater. So you see, it's a very important job, and I tell him it's just silly to miss dealing with spark-plugs and toasters and all the rest of that Muggle rubbish." Mrs Weasley ended her speech with a stern look, as if it had been Harry and Emma suggesting that it was natural to miss spark-plugs.

"Is Mr Weasley still at work?" Harry asked.

"Yeah" Emma nodded.

"As a matter of fact, he's a tiny bit late..." Mrs Weasley said worriedly. "He said he'd be back around midnight..."

She and Emma turned to look at a large clock that was perched awkwardly on top of a pile of sheets in the washing basket at the end of the table. Harry recognised it at once: it had nine hands, each inscribed with the name of a family member, and usually hung on the Weasleys' sitting-room wall, and though its current position suggested that Mrs Weasley had taken to carrying it around the house with her. Every single one of its nine hands was now pointing at _mortal peril._

"It's been like that for a while now" said Emma, in an unconvincingly casual voice "ever since You-Know-Who came back into the open. I suppose everybody's in mortal peril now... we don't think it can be just this family... but we don't know anyone else who's got a clock like this, so I can't check. Oh!"

With a sudden exclamation she pointed at the cloak's face. Mr Weasley's hand had switched to _travelling._

"He's coming!"

And sure enough, a moment later there was a knock on the back door. Mrs Weasley jumped up and hurried to it; with one hand on the doorknob and her face pressed against the wood she called softly "Arthur, is that you?"

"Yes" came Mr Weasley's weary voice. "But I would say that even if I were a Death Eater, dear. Ask the question!"

"Oh, honestly..."

"Molly!"

"All right, all right... what is your dearest ambition?"

"To find out how aeroplanes stay up."

Mrs Weasley nodded and turned the doorknob, but apparently Mr Weasley was holding tight to it on the other side, because the door remained firmly shut.

"Molly! I've got to ask you your question first!"

"Arthur, really, this is just silly..."

"What do you like em to call you when we're alone together?"

Even by the dim light of the lantern Harry and Emma could tell that Mrs Weasley had turned bright red.

"So, Harry" said Emma loudly "I was wondering whether or not you could give me away seen as you're the only family member I have left that is biological.

"Sure" Harry answered just as loudly.

"Correct" said Mr Weasley. "Now you can let me in.

Mrs Weasley opened the door to reveal her husband, a thin, balding, red-haired wizard wearing horn-rimmed spectacles and a long and dusty travelling cloak.

"I still don't see why we have to go through that every time you come home" said Mrs Weasley, still pink in the face as she helped her husband out of his cloak. "I mean, a Death Eater might have forced the answer out of you before impersonation you!"

"I know, dear, but its Ministry procedure and I have to set an example. Something smells good- onion soup?"

Mr Weasley turned hopefully in the direction of the table.

"Harry! We didn't expect you until morning!"

They shook hands and Mr Weasley dropped into the chair beside Harry as Mrs Weasley set a bowl of soup in front of him, too.

"Thanks, Molly. It's been a tough night. Some idiot's started selling Metamorph-Medals. Just sling them around your neck and you'll be able to change your appearance at will. A hundred thousand disguises, all for ten Galleons!"

"And what really happens when you put them on?" Emma asked curiously.

"Mostly you just turn a fairly unpleasant orange colour, but a couple of people have also sprouted tentacle-like warts all over their bodies. As if St Mungo's didn't have enough to do already!"

"It sounds like the sort of thing Fred and George would find funny" said Mrs Weasley hesitantly.

"They didn't do it" Emma said confidently. "I'm keeping tabs on everything they do and the outcome. I would know if they did something like that."

"The boys wouldn't do anything like that now" Mr Weasley "not when people are desperate for protection!"

"So is that why you're late, Metamorph- Medals?"

"No, we got wind of a nasty Backfiring Jinx down in Elephant and Castle, but luckily the Magical Law Enforcement Squad had sorted it out by the time we got there..."

Harry stifled a yawn behind his hand.

"Bed" said an undeceived Emma firmly at once.

"I've got Red and George's room all ready for you" said Mrs Weasley. "You'll have it to yourself."

"Why, where are they?"

"Oh, they're in Diagon Alley, sleeping in the little flat over their joke shop as they're so busy" Emma answered.

"Of course, you would know" Harry teased her. Emma playfully slapped him lightly on the arm and blushed deeply.

"I must say" said Mrs Weasley "I didn't approve at first, but they do seem to have a bit of a flair for business! Come on, dear, your trunk's already up there."

"Night, Mr Weasley" said Harry, pushing back his chair. Crookshanks leapt lightly from his lap and slunk out of the room.

"G'night" said Mr Weasley.

Harry and Emma saw Mrs Weasley glance at the clock in the washing basket as they left the kitchen. All the hands were, once again, at _mortal peril._

Fred and George's bedroom was on the second floor. Emma pointed her wand at a lamp on the bedside table and it ignited at once, bathing the room in a pleasant golden glow. Though a large vase of flowers had been placed on a desk in front of the small window, their perfume could not disguise the lingering smell of what they thought was gunpowder. A considerable amount of floor space was devoted to a vast number of unmarked, sealed cardboard boxes, amongst which stood Harry's school trunk. The room looked as though it was it was being used as a temporary warehouse.

Hedwig hooted happily at them from her perch on top of a large wardrobe, and then took off through the window. Emma knew she had been waiting to see Harry before going hunting. Harry bade Emma and Mrs Weasley goodnight, put on pyjamas and got into one of the beds. There was something hard in the pillowcase. He groped inside it and pulled out a sticky purple and orange sweet, which he recognised as a Puking Pastille. Smiling to himself, he rolled over and was instantly asleep.

Seconds later, or so it seemed to Harry, he was woken by what sounded like cannon-fire as the door burst open and some say "He needs his rest!"

Sitting bolt upright, he heard the rasp of the curtains being pulled back: the dazzling sunlight seemed to poke him hard in both eyes. Shielding them with one hand, he groped hopelessly for his glassed with the other hand.

"Wuzzgoinon?"

"We didn't know you were here already!" said a loud and excited voice, and he received a sharp blow to the top of the head.

"Ron, don't hit him!" said a girl's voice reproachfully.

"Yeah, he can't afford to lose anymore brain-cells than he's already got" said another girl's voice.

Harry hand found his glasses and he shoved them on, though the light was so bright he could hardly see anyway. A long, looming shadow quivered in front of him for a moment; he blinked and Ron Weasley came into focus, grinning down at him.

"All right?"

"Never been better" said Harry, rubbing the top of his head and slumping back on to his pillows. Emma giggled. "You?"

"Not bad" said Ron, pulling over a cardboard box and sitting on it. "When did you get here? Mum's only just told us!"

"About one o'clock this morning" Emma answered him, also pulling over a cardboard box by Harry's head and sat down.

"Were the Muggles all right? Did they treat you okay?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"Same as usual" said Harry, as Hermione perched herself on the edge of his bed. "They didn't talk to me much, but I like it better that way. How are you, Hermione?"

"Oh, I'm fine" said Hermione, who was now scrutinising Harry and Emma as though they were sickening for something.

They thought they knew what was behind this and, as they had no wish to discuss Sirius's death or any other miserable subject at the moment, he said "What time is it? Have I missed breakfast?"

"Don't worry about that, Mum's bringing you up a tray; she reckons you look underfed" said Ron, rolling his eyes. "So, what's been going on?"

"Nothing much, I've just been stuck at my aunt and uncles, haven't I?"

"Come off it!"said Ron. "You've been off with Dumbledore!"

"It probably wasn't that exciting" said Emma knowingly. "Dumbledore just wanted Harry to help him persuade this old teacher call Horace Slughorn to come out of retirement."

"Oh" said Ron, looking disappointed. "We thought..."

Hermione flashed a warning look at Ron and Ron changed tack at top speed.

"...we thought it would be something like that."

"You did?" said Harry, amused, and Emma raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah... yeah, now Umbridge has left, obviously we need a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, don't we."

"You two are horrible liars, you know that" Emma laughed.

"So, err, what's he like?" Ron asked.

"He looks a bit like a walrus and he used to be Head of Slytherin" said Harry.

"Something wrong, Hermione?" Emma asked, unconvincingly casual.

She was watching them as though expecting strange symptoms to manifest themselves at any moment. She rearranged her features hastily in an unconvincing smile.

"No, of course not! So, um, did Slughorn seem like he'll be a good teacher?"

"Dunno" said Harry. "He can't be worse than Umbridge, can he?"

"I know someone who's worse than Umbridge" said a voice from the doorway. Ron's younger sister slouched into the room, looking irritable. "Hi, Harry."

"What's up with you?" Ron asked.

"It's her" said Ginny, plonking herself down on Harry's bed. "She's driving me mad."

"What has she done now?" asked Hermione and Emma sympathetically.

"It's the way she talks to me- you'd think I was about three!"

"I know" said Hermione, dropping her voice. "She's so full of herself."

Harry was astonished to hear Hermione talking about Mrs Weasley like this and could not blame Ron for saying angrily "Can't you two lay off her for five seconds?"

"Oh, that's right, defend her" snapped Ginny.

"We all know you can't get enough of her" Emma added, rolling her eyes and pointing a finger at her head.

This seemed an off comment to make about Ron's mother; starting to feel that he was missing something, Harry said "Who are you...?"

But his question was answered before he could finish it. The bedroom door flew open again and Harry instinctively yanked the bedcovers up to his chin so hard that Hermione and Ginny slid off the bed and on to the floor.

A young woman was standing in the doorway, a woman of such breathtaking beauty that the room seemed to have become strangely airless. She was tall and willowy with long blonde hair and appeared to emanate a faint, silvery glow. To complete this vision of perfection, she was carrying a heavily laden breakfast tray.

"'Arry" she said in a throaty voice. "Eet 'as been too long!"

She swept over the threshold towards him, Mrs Weasley was revealed, bobbing along in her wake, looking rather cross.

"There was no need to bring up the tray; I was just about to do it myself!"

"Eet was no trouble" said Fleur Delacour, setting the tray across Harry's knees and then swooping to kiss him in each cheek; he felt the places where he mouth had touched him burn. "I 'ave longing to see 'im. You remember my seester, Gabrielle? She never talking about 'Arry Potter. She will be delighted to see you again."

"Oh... is she here too?" Harry croaked.

"No, no, silly boy" said Fleur with a tinkling laugh "I mean next summer, when we- but do you not know?"

Her great blue eyes widened and she looked reproachfully at Mrs Weasley, who said "We haven't got round to telling him about it yet."

Fleur turned her back on her, swinging her silvery sheet of hair so that it whipped across Mrs Weasley across the face. Emma made an angry noise, glaring into Fleur's back as though she wished she could burn holes in her.

"Bill and I are going to be married!"

"Oh" said Harry blankly. He could not help noticing how Mrs Weasley, Hermione, Ginny and Emma wee all determinedly avoiding each other's gaze. "Wow. Err= congratulations!"

She swooped down upon him and kissed him again.

"Bill is very busy at ze moment, working very 'ard, and I only work part-time at Gringotts for my Eenglish, so he brought me 'ere for a few days to get to know 'is family properly. I was so pleased to 'ear you would be coming- zere isn't much to do 'ere, unless you like cooking and chickens! Well- enjoy your breakfast, 'Arry!"

With these words she turned gracefully and seemed to float out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Mrs Weasley made a noise that sounded like "tchah!"

"Mum hates her" said Ginny quietly.

"I do not hate her!" said Mrs Weasley in a cross whisper. "I just think they've hurried into this engagement that is all!"

"You don't seem to mind at all about me and George getting married. I hardly think it's any different" said Emma slyly.

"Yes, well, you and George are made for each other. What is the point in waiting?" said Mrs Weasley. "Whereas Bill and Fleur... well... what have they got in common? He's a hard-working, down-to-earth sort of person, whereas she's..."

"A cow" said Ginny, nodding. "But Bill's not that down-to-earth. He's a curse-breaker, isn't he? He likes a bit of adventure, a bit of glamour... I expect that's why he's gone for Phlegm."

"Stop calling her that, Ginny" said Mrs Weasley sharply, as Harry, Hermione and Emma laughed. "Well, I'd better get on... eat your eggs while they're warm, Harry."

Looking careworn, she left the room. Ron still seemed slightly punch-drink; he was shaking his head experimentally like a dog trying to rid its ears of water.

"Don't you get used to her is she's staying in the same house?" Harry asked. Emma rolled her eyes.

"Well, you do" said Ron "but if she jumps out at you unexpectedly, like then..."

"It's pathetic" said Hermione furiously, striding away from Ron as far as she could go and turning to face him with arms folded once she had reached the wall.

"You don't really want her around forever?" Ginny asked Ron incredulously. When he merely shrugged, she said "Well, mum's going to put a stop to it if she can, I bet you anything."

"I wish her luck" Emma mumbled "'cause those two stick together like magnets."

"How's she going to manage that?" asked Harry.

"She keeps trying to get Tonks round for dinner" replied Hermione. "I think she's hoping Bill will fall for Tonks instead."

"I hope he does" Ginny said. "I'd much rather have her in the family."

"Mrs Weasley isn't getting Tonks round for dinner for that!" Emma said, looking surprised. "I thought you lot would have figured it out by now!"

"What?" asked Hermione curiously.

"It's not for me to say" Emma decided finally after a couple of minutes of silence.

"And anyway" said Ron "no bloke in his right mind's going to fancy Tonks when Fleur's around. I mean, Tonks is okay-looking when she isn't doing stupid things to her hair and her nose, but..."

"She's a damn sight nicer than Phlegm" said Ginny.

"And she is more intelligent, she's an Auror!" said Hermione from the corner.

"Fleur isn't that stupid seen as she was good enough to enter the Triwizard Tournament" said Emma fairly.

"Not you as well!" said Hermione bitterly.

Emma held up her hands like a surrender and said "I'm merely pointing out all the facts."

"I'd much rather have Tonks in the family" said Ginny. "At least she's a laugh."

"She hasn't been much of a laugh lately" said Ron. "Every time I've seen her she's looked more like Moaning Myrtle."

"That's not fair" snapped Emma, glowering at Ron. "She's been having a really hard time lately. And she still hasn't got over what happened... you know... I mean, he was her cousin!"

Emma winced. They had arrived at Sirius. She really wished she hadn't picked up the subject. She saw Harry pick up his fork and he began shovelling scrambled eggs into his mouth, obviously hoping to deflect any invitation to join this part of the conversation. Emma closed her eyes and laid her head on the edge of the bed, also hoping to deflect any invitation to join in.

"Tonks and Sirius barely knew each other!" she heard Ron say. "Sirius was in Azkaban half her life and before that their families never met..."

"That's not the point" said Hermione. "She thinks it was her fault he died!"

"How does she work that one out?" asked Harry, in spite of himself. Emma had to smile faintly at that. Humans! Their curiosity always got the better of them.

"Well, she was fighting Bellatrix Lestrange, wasn't she? I think she feels that if only she had finished her off, Bellatrix couldn't have killed Sirius."

"That's stupid" said Ron.

"It's survivor's guilt" Emma mumbled.

"I know Lupin's tried to talk her round, but she's really down" Hermione said and Emma laughed drily.

"He's half of the problem" she said, her eyes still closed.

They all knew that Emma wasn't going to explain so Hermione continued. "She's actually having trouble with her Metamorphosing!"

"With her...?" Harry asked puzzled.

"She can't change her appearance like she used to" explained Hermione. "I think her powers must have been affected by shock; or something to do with that" she added with a side glance at Emma.

"I didn't know that could happen" said Harry.

"Nor did I" said Hermione "but I suppose if you're really depressed..."

The door opened again and Mrs Weasley popped her head in.

"Ginny" she whispered "come downstairs and help me with the lunch."

"I'm talking to this lot!" said Ginny, outraged.

"Now!" said Mrs Weasley, and withdrew.

"She only wants me there so she doesn't have to be alone with Phlegm!" said Ginny crossly. She swung her ling red hair around in a very good imitation of Fleur and pranced across the room with her arms held aloft like a ballerina.

"You lot had better come down quickly too" she said as she left.

Harry took advantage of the temporary silence to eat more breakfast. Hermione was peering into Fred and George's boxes, tough every now and then she cast sideways looks at Harry and Emma. Ron, who was now helping himself to Harry's toast, was still gazing dreamily at the door. Emma was humming softly to herself a tune that was strangely familiar to him.

"What's this?" Hermione asked eventually, holding up what looked like a small telescope.

"Dunno" said Emma, who had stopped humming and opened her eyes. "But if Fred and George've left it here, it's probably not ready for the joke shop yet, so be careful. Well, that, or they've forgotten about it."

"Your mum said the shop's going well" said Harry to Ron. "Said Fred and George have got a real flair for business."

"That's an understatement" said Ron. "They are raking in the Galleons! I can't wait to see the place. We haven't been to Diagon Alley yet, because Mum says Dad's got to be there for extra security and he's been really busy at work, but it sounds excellent."

"It is" Emma agreed.

"And what about Percy" asked Harry; the third-eldest Weasley brother had fallen out with the rest of the family. "Is he talking to your mum and dad?"

"No dice" Ron replied.

"But he knows your dad was right all along now about Voldemort being back..."

"Dumbledore said to me that people find it far easier to forgive others for being wrong than being right" said Emma. "He told me a couple of days ago."

"Sounds like the sort of metal thing Dumbledore would say" said Ron.

"Madness can be found enlightening rather than frightening" Emma disagreed.

Ron mocked groaned and said "You're just as bad as Dumbledore."

"He's going to be giving me and Emma private lessons this year" said Harry conversationally.

Ron chocked on his bit of toast and Hermione gasped.

"You kept that quiet!" said Ron.

"I only just remembered" said Harry honestly and Emma nodded slightly in agreement.

"He told me the day before me left Hogwarts and he told Harry last night in your broom shed" she explained.

"Blimey... private lessons with Dumbledore!" said Ron, looking impressed. "I wonder why he's...?"

He voice tailed away. Harry and Emma saw him and Hermione exchange looks. Harry laid down his knife and fork, his heart beating rather fast considering that all he was doing was sitting in bed and Emma felt slightly sick. Dumbledore had said to do it... why not now? Emma fixed her eyes on the window and Harry said "We don't know exactly why he's going to be giving us lessons, but we think it must be because of the prophecy."

Neither Ron nor Hermione spoke. Harry and Emma had the impression that they both had frozen. Emma continued for him "You know the one they were trying to steal at the Ministry."

"Nobody knows what it said, though" said Hermione quickly. Emma sensed she was trying not to get her hopes up. "It got smashed."

"Although the _Prophet_ says..." began Ron, but Hermione shushed him.

"The _Prophet_ has got it right" said Emma, looking up at them both with great effort and Harry did the same; Hermione seemed frightened and Ron looked amazed. "That glass ball that smashed wasn't the only record of the prophecy. We heard the whole thing in Dumbledore's office, he was the one the prophecy was made to, and so he could tell us. From what it said" Emma took a deep breath "it looks like we're the ones who's got to finish off Voldemort... at least, is said neither of us could live while the other survives."

"What did it say exactly?" asked Hermione carefully.

"Two children with power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches..." Emma recited from memory. "Born to those who have trice defied him, both born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark them as his equal, but they will have the power the Dark Lord knows now. And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives... one of the two will protect the other like an angel from above..."

The four of them gazed at each other in silence for a moment. Then there was a loud bang and Hermione vanished behind a puff of black smoke.

"Hermione!" shouted Harry, Ron and Emma together; the breakfast tray slid to the floor with a crash onto Emma's foot but she didn't seem to notice. Knowing her, she probably didn't even feel it.

Hermione emerged, coughing, out of the smoke, clutching the telescope and sporting a brilliantly purple black eye.

"O squeezed it and it- it punched me!" she gasped.

And sure enough, they now saw a tiny fist on a long spring protruding from the end of the telescope.

"Don't worry" said Ron, who was plainly trying not to laugh and earning a whack on the arm from Emma. "Mum will fix that she's good at healing minor injuries."

"Oh, well, ever mind that now!" said Hermione hastily. "Oh my gosh!"

She sat down on the edge of his bed again and Emma rested her head on Harry's shoulder.

"We wondered, after we got back from the Ministry... obviously, we didn't want to say anything to you two, but from what Lucius Malfoy said about the prophecy, how it was about you two and Voldemort, well, we thought it might be something like this... oh..." She stared at them, the whispered "Are you scared?"

"Not as much as we were" Emma admitted. "When we first heard it, we were... but now, it seems as though we always knew we'd have to face him in the end..."

"He wouldn't be giving you lessons if he thought you were goners" said Ron eagerly. "He wouldn't waste his time- he must think you've got a chance!"

"That's true" said Hermione. "I wonder what he will teach you. Really advance defensive magic, probably... powerful counter-curses... anti- jinxes..."

Harry and Emma didn't really listen. Warmth was spreading through them that had nothing to do with the sunlight; a tight obstruction in their chests seemed to be dissolving. They knew that Ron and Hermione were more shocked than they were letting on, but the mere fact that they were still here on either side of them, speaking bracing words of comfort, not shrinking from them as though they were contaminated or dangerous, was worth more than they could ever tell them, more than they could even put into words. They almost felt like jumping up and down with happiness.

"...and evasive enchantments generally" concluded Hermione. "Well, at least you know one lesson you'll be having this year that's one more than Ron and me. I wonder when our O.W.L results will come."

"Can't be long now, it's been a month" said Ron.

"Dumbledore said our results would be arriving today!" Emma exclaimed suddenly.

"Today?" shrieked Hermione "Today? But why didn't you- oh my God- you should have said..."

She leapt to her feet.

"I'm going to see whether any owls have come..."

But when Harry and Emma arrived downstairs ten minutes later, fully dressed and Harry carrying his empty breakfast tray, it was to find Hermione sitting at the kitchen table in great agitation, while Mrs Weasley tried to lessen her resemblance to half a panda.

"It just won't budge" Mrs Weasley was saying anxiously, standing over Hermione with her wand in her hand and a copy of _The Healer's Helpmate _open at 'Bruises, Cuts and Abrasions'. "This has always worked before, I just can't understand it."

"It's probably Fred and George's idea of a funny joke, making sure it can't come off" said Emma worriedly.

"But it's got to come off!" squeaked Hermione. "I can't go around looking like this forever!"

"Don't worry" said Emma soothingly. "I'm sure they have an antidote at their shop. They always have."

"Bill told me 'ow Fred and George are very amusing!" said Fleur, smiling serenely.

"Yes, I can hardly breathe for laughing" snapped Hermione.

She jumped up and started walking round and rounds the kitchen, twisting her fingers together.

"Mrs Weasley, you're quite, quite sure no owls have arrived this morning?"

"Yes, dear, I would have noticed" said Mrs Weasley patiently. "But it's barely nine, there's still plenty of time..."

"I know I messed up Ancient Runes" muttered Hermione feverishly "I definitely made at least one serious mistranslation. And the Defence Against the Dark Arts practical was no good at all. I though Transfiguration went all right at the time, but looking back..."

"Hermione, will you shut up, you're not the only one who is nervous!" braked Ron. "And when you've got your eleven "Outstanding" O..."

"Don't, don't, don't!" said Hermione, flapping her hands hysterically. "I know I've failed everything!"

"What happens if we fail?" Harry asked the room at large, but it was Emma who answered.

"You discuss your options with you Head of House."

Harry's stomach squirmed. He wished he had eaten less breakfast.

"At Beauxbatons" said Fleur complacently "we 'ad a different way of doing things. I think eet was better. We sat our examinations after six years of study, not five, and then..."

Fleur's words were drowned in a scream. Hermione was pointing through the kitchen window. Three black specks were clearly visible in the sky, growing larger all the time.

"They're definitely owls" said Ron hoarsely, jumping up to join Hermione at the window.

"And there are four of them" said Harry, hastening to her side.

"Hmmm, one of them must be for me then" Emma said vaguely, gliding to the window curiously. "Dumbledore said he was going to send me an owl."

"One for each of us" said Hermione in a terrified whisper. "Oh no... Oh no... Oh no..."

She gripped both Harry and Rob tightly around the elbows causing them to wince slightly in pain.

The owls were flying directly at The Burrow, three handsome townies and one eagle, each of which, it became clear as they flew lower over the path leading up to the house, was carrying a large square envelope, though the eagles one was smaller.

"Oh no!" squealed Hermione

Mrs Weasley squeezed past them and opened the kitchen window. One, two three, four, the birds soared through it and landed on the table in a neat line. All four of them lifted their right legs.

Emma moved forwards. The letter and parcel addressed to her was tied to the leg of the eagle in the middle as she had guessed. She untied it curiously

She read the letter first:

_Dear Emma,_

_This is a book Sirius wanted you to have. He said that you would understand. He also said that this would help you in the future. Don't ask me what he means because he didn't tell me._

_From_

_Professor Dumbledore_

Emma frowned and opened the parcel, ignoring everyone around her. She pulled out a purple violate book. She opened it and a note slipped out, fluttering to the floor. She picked it up quickly and began to read:

_To Emma,_

_If you have this book and are reading this note then I am dead. I'm sorry if you didn't know this. But please don't morn over my death for too long. I will see you both sometime in the future._

_This book contains some stories that will help you. I don't know how I know this, I just know._

_You're affectionate Godfather_

_Sirius Black_

Emma was fighting back tears by the time she had finished the note and had to sit down.

"Are you okay, Em?" asked Ginny carefully.

"Yeah" she croaked. "I have to go to my room. I'll be back down in a few minutes."

She rushed up stairs and locked the door firmly before any of them could say anymore. She plunked herself down onto her bed and started to read silently:

_THE TALE OF THE_

_THREE BOTHERS_

_There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. In time, the brother reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across._

_However, these three brothers were learned in magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure._

_And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travellers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic, and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him._

_So the oldest brother, who was combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder three on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother._

_Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead._

_And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility._

_Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way and they did so, talking with wonder of their adventure they had just had, and admiring Death's gifts._

_In due course, the brothers separated, for his own destination._

_The first brother travelled on for a week or more, and reaching a distant village, he sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel. Naturally, with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Dearth himself, and of how it made him invincible._

_That very night, another wizard crept upon the oldest brother as he lay, wine-sodden, upon his bed. The thief took the wand and, for good measure, slit the eldest brother's throat._

_And so Death took the first brother for his own._

_Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead, and turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry before her him._

_Yet she was silent and cold, separated from him as though by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally, the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing himself so as truly to join her._

_And so Death took the second brother for his own._

_But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life._

Emma found a couple of poems, though she wasn't sure why Sirius had put them there.

_Oh, the torment bred in the race,_

_The grinding scream of Death,_

_And the stroke that hits the vein,_

_The haemorrhage none can staunch, the grief,_

_The curse no man can bear._

_But there is a cure in the house,_

_And not outside it, no,_

_Not from others but from them,_

_Their bloody stride._

_We sing to you,_

_Dark gods beneath the earth._

_Now here, you blissful powers underground-_

_Answer the call, send help._

_Bless the children, five them triumph now._

_~Aeschylus, The Libation Bearers_

_Death is but crossing the world, as friends do the seas; they live in one another still. For they must needs be present, that love and live in that which is omnipresent. In this divine glass they see the face to face; and their converse is free, as well as pure. This is the comfort of friends, that though they may be say to die, yet their friendship and society are, in the best sense, ever present, become immortal._

_William Penn, More Fruits of Solitude_

Emma turned the page and saw bold black writing saying: **You may not like what you read. You have been warned.**

She shuddered and turned the page:

_The night wet and windy, two children dressed as pumpkins waddling across the square, and the shop windows covered in paper spiders, all the tawdry Muggle trappings of a world in which they did not believe... and Voldemort was gliding along, that sense of purpose and power and rightness in him that he always knew on these occasions... not anger... that was for weaker souls than he... but triumph, yes... he had waited for this, he had hoped for it..._

_And along a new and darker street he moved, and now his destination was in sight at least, the Fidelius Charm had broken, though they did not know it yet... and he and less noise than the dead leaves slithering along the pavement as he drew level with the dark hedge, and stared over it..._

_They had not drawn the curtains yet, he saw them quite clearly in their little sitting room, the tall, black-haired ma in his glasses, making puffs of smoke erupt from his wand for the amusement of the small black-haired boy in his blue pyjamas and the even smaller dark red-haired girl in her pink pyjamas. The children were laughing and trying to catch the smoke, to grab it in their small fists..._

_A door opened and the mother entered, saying words he could not hear, her long, dark red hair falling over her face. The father scooped up the daughter and handed her to the mother and scooped up the son in his own arms. He then through down his wand upon the sofa, yawning..._

_The gate creaked little as he pushed it open, but neither James Potter nor Lilly Potter heard. His white hand pulled out the wand beneath his cloak and pointed it at the door, which burst open with a flash of white light..._

_He was over the threshold as James and Lilly came sprinting into the hall, clutching their children to their chests. It was easy, too easy; James had not even picked up his wand..._

"_Lilly, take Harry and Emma and go!" James shouted, handing the son over to her. "It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off..."_

_Hold him off, without a wand in his hand! He laughed before casting the curse..._

"Avada Kedavra!_"_

_The green light filled the cramped hallway, it lit the double pram pushed against the wall, it made the banister glare like lightning rods, and James Potter fell like a Mariette whose strings were cut..._

_He could hear her screaming form the upper floor, trapped, but as long as she was sensible she, at least, had nothing to fear... he climbed the steps, listening with faint amusement to her attempts to barricade herself in... He had no wand upon her... how stupid they were, and how trusting, thinking that their safety lay in friends, that weapons could be discarded even for moments..._

_He forced the door open, cast aside the chair and boxes hastily piled against it with one lazy wave of his wand... and there she stood, the children in each of her arms. At the sight of him, she dropped her son and daughter into the cot behind her and threw her arms wide, as if this would help, as if shielding them from sight she hoped to be chosen instead..._

"_Not my children, please, not my children!"_

"_Stand aside, you silly girl...stand aside now..."_

"_Not my children, please no, take me, kill me instead..."_

"_This is my last warning..."_

"_Not my children... have mercy... have mercy... Not Harry! Not Emma! Please... I will do anything..."_

"_Stand aside- stand aside, girl..."_

_He could have forced her away from the cot, but it seemed more prudent to finish them all..._

_The green light flashed around the room and she dropped like her husband. The son had not cried all this time, ignoring his sister's please to hide behind her: he could stand, clutching the bars of his cot. The daughter held him close to her when he started to cry when he realised it was not his father under the cloak making more pretty lights..._

_He pointed the wand very carefully between the boy and the girl so he could kill them both in one curse: he wanted to see it happen, the destruction of them, inexplicable danger. He did not like it crying, he had never been able stomach the small one's wining in the orphanage..._

"Avada Kedavra!"

_And then he broke: he was nothing, nothing but pain and terror, and he much hide himself, not her in the rubble of the ruined house, where the children were trapped and screaming, but far away... far away..._

Emma choked back tears. She didn't want to go back down stairs and ruin the happy moment. She could feel their happiness and joy radiating always up the stairs. This is something she would keep secret, not matter what.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Weasley Wizard Wheezes

Emma NS Harry remained within the confines of The Burrow's garden over the next few weeks. They spent most of their days playing two-a-side Quidditch in the Weasley's orchard (Harry and Emma against Ron and Ginny with Hermione on the ground keeping track of the points; she hated brooms more than anything and chickened out) and their evenings eating triple helpings of everything Mrs Weasley put in front of them. Mrs Weasley said that Harry was still far too skinny and Emma needed the energy with the amount of work she was doing.

Emma was now keeping an eye on the future, running a mile outwards around the house every night apart from Sundays, helping her vampire world and casting so many spells it was unimaginable. She had lost count of the different types of spells she had used. It was exhausting; but it was worth it if it meant her family were safe.

It would have been a happy, peaceful holiday had it not been for stories of disappearances, odd accidents, even of deaths now appearing almost daily in the _Prophet. _Sometimes Bill and Mr Weasley brought home news before it even reached the paper. To Mrs Weasley's displeasure, Harry and Emma's sixteenth birthday celebrations were marred by grisly tidings brought to the party by Remus Lupin, who was looking gaunt and grim, his brown hair streaked liberally with grey, his clothes more ragged and patched than ever.

"There have been another couple of Dementor attacks" he announced, as Mrs Weasley passed him a large slice of birthday cake. "And they've found Igor Karkaroff's body in a shack up north. The Dark Mark had been set over it- well, frankly, I'm surprised he stayed alive for even a year after deserting the Death Eaters; Sirius's brother Regulus only managed a few days as far as I can remember."

"He put up one hell of a fight" Emma agreed. She was absentmindedly pulling the icing off and eating the sponge before eating the icing; a habit she had picked off her mum

"How did you know that?" asked Lupin.

"My visions are going haywire" Emma shrugged. "I'm seeing everyone's deaths, accidents, even the minor ones. I'm just not always there in time to stop it from happening."

Everyone knew how Emma was touchy on the subject so Bill changed it.

"Did you hear about Florean Fortescue, Remus?" he asked, now being plied with wine by Fleur. "The man who ran..."

"...the ice-cream place in Diagon Alley?" Harry interrupted, with an unpleasant, hollow sensation in the pit of his stomach. "He used to give em and Em free ice creams. What's happened to him?"

"Dragged off, by the look of his place."

"Why?" asked Ron, while Mrs Weasley pointedly glared at Bill and Lupin.

"Who knows? He must have upset them somehow. He was a good man, Florean."

"Talking of Diagon Alley" said Mr Weasley "looks like Ollivander is gone too."

"The wand-maker?" said Ginny, looking startled.

"That's the one. Shop's empty. No sign of a struggle. No one knows whether he left voluntarily or was kidnapped.

"Kidnapped" Emma said.

"But wands- what will people do for wands?" Ginny wanted to know.

"They'll make do with other makers" answered Emma. "But Ollivander was the best, and if the other side have got him it's not so good for us."

The day after this rather gloomy birthday tea, their letters and book lists arrived form Hogwarts. Harry's included a surprise: he had been made Quidditch Captain.

"That gives you equal status with prefects!" cried Hermione happily. "You can use our special bathroom now, and everything! And Emma can go anywhere and use anything as well now she has special permission from the Minster of Magic."

"Wow, I remember when Charlie wore one of these" said Ron, examining the badge with glee. "Harry, this is so cool, you're my captain- if you let me back on the team, I suppose, ha, ha..."

"Well, I don't suppose we can put off a trip to Diagon Alley much longer now you've got these" sighed Mrs Weasley, looking down Ron's book list. "We'll go on Saturday as long as your father doesn't have to go into work again. I'm not going there without him."

"Don't worry, Mrs Weasley. I'm keeping a sharp eye open" Emma reassured her.

"Are you sure you should be doing that?" asked Mrs Weasley worriedly. "I mean you're working too hard as it is and exhausting yourself."

It was true. The bags under Emma's were more apparent than ever. And Harry was sure that she was using magic to make it less apparent.

"I'll be fine" Emma lied.

"Mum, do you honestly think You-Know-Who's going to be hiding behind a bookshelf in Flourish and Blotts?" sniggered Ron.

"Fortescue and Ollivander went on holiday, did they, Ron?" Emma asked quietly. "For all we know, one of us could be an intruder. For all we know..."

"All right, all right, I get the point" Ron said hastily. "I mean, I want to see Fred and George's shop!"

"Then you just buck up your ideas, young man, before I decide you are too immature to come with us!" said Mrs Weasley angrily, snatching up her clock, all nine hands of which were still pointing at _mortal peril, _and balancing it on top of a pile of just-laundered towels. "And that goes for returning to Hogwarts, as well!"

Ron turned to stare incredulously as Harry as his mother hoisted the laundry basket and the teetering clock into her arms and stormed out of the room.

"Blimey... you can't even make a joke round her anymore..."

"Some things can't be made a joke" Emma whispered.

Ron was careful not to be flippant about Voldemort over the next few days. Saturday dawned without any more outbursts form Mrs Weasley, though she seemed very tense at breakfast. Bill, who would be staying at home with Fleur -much to Hermione, Emma and Ginny's pleasure- passed two full money-bags across the table to Harry and Emma.

"I got it out of your vault for you" said Bill "because it's taking about five hours for the public to get to their gold at the moment; the goblins have tightened security so much. Two days ago Arkie Philpott stuck up his..." Emma gave a cough and he changed take quickly "... well, trust me, this way's easier."

"Thanks" Harry and Emma said, pocketing their gold.

"'E is always so thoughtful" purred Fleur adoringly, stroking Bill's nose. Ginny mimed vomiting into her cereal behind Fleur, Emma fell of her chair, Harry chocked over his cornflakes and Ron thumped him on the back.

It was an overcast, murky day. One of the special Ministry of Magic cars, in which Harry and Emma had ridden once before, was awaiting them in the front yard when they emerged from the house pulling on their cloaks.

"It's good Dad can get us these again" said Ron appreciatively, stretching luxuriously as the car moved smoothly away from The Burrow, Bill and Fleur waving from the kitchen window. He, Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Emma were all sitting in roomy comfort in the wide back seat.

"Don't get used to it, it's only because of Harry and Emma" said Mr Weasley over his shoulder. "They've been given top-grade security status. And we'll be joining up with additional security at the Leaky Cauldron, too."

Harry and Emma said nothing; they did not much fancy doing their shopping while surrounded by a battalion of Aurors. Harry had stowed his Invisibility Cloak in his backpack and they felt that, if that was good enough for Dumbledore, it ought to be good enough for the Ministry, though now they came to think of it, they weren't sure the Ministry knew about his Cloak.

"Here you are, then" said the driver a surprisingly short while later, speaking for the first time as he slowed in Charing Cross Road and stopped outside the Leaky Cauldron. "I'm to wait for you, any idea how long you'll be?"

"A couple of hours, I expect" said Mr Weasley. "Ah, good, he's here!"

Harry and Emma imitated Mrs Weasley and peered through the window. There were no Aurors waiting outside the inn, but instead the gigantic, black-bearded form of Rubeus Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, wearing a long beaverskin coat, beaming at the sight of their faces and oblivious to the startled stares of passing Muggles.

"Harry! Emma!" he boomed, sweeping Harry and Emma into a bone-crushing hug the moment they had stepped out of the car. "Buckbeak- Witherwings, I mean- yeh should see him, he's so happy ter be back in the open air..."

"Glad he's pleased" said Harry, grinning as they massaged their ribs. "We didn't know 'security' meant you!"

"I know, jus' like old times, innit? See, the Ministry wanted ter send a bunch o' Aurors, but Dumbledore said I'd do" said Hagrid proudly, throwing out his chest and tucking his thumbs into his pockets. "Let's get goin', then- after yeh, Molly, Arthur..."

The Leaky Cauldron was, for the first time in their memories, completely empty. Only Tom the landlord, wizened and toothless, remained of the old crowd. He looked up hopefully as they enter, but before he could speak, Hagrid said importantly "Jus' passin' through today, Tom, sure yeh understand. Hogwarts business, yeh know."

Tom nodded gloomily and returned to wiping glasses. Emma looked at him sympathetically for a few seconds before tossing five Galleons which landed neatly in his pot with a loud clang which causing Tom's face to light up like a kid on Christmas day.

Hagrid raised his pink umbrella and rapped ca certain brick on the wall, which opened at once to form an archway on to a winding cobbled street. The stepped through the entrance and paused, looking around.

Diagon Alley had changed. The colourful, glittering window displays of spell books, potion ingredients and cauldrons were lost to view, hidden behind the large Ministry of Magic posters that had been pasted over them. Most of these sombre purple posters carried blown-up versions of the security advice on the Ministry pamphlets that had been sent out over the summer, but others bore moving black-and-white photographs of Death Eaters known to be on the loose. Bellatrix Lestrange was sneering from the front of the nearest apothecary. A few windows were boarded up, including those of Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour. On the other hand, a number of shabby-looking stalls had sprung up along the street. The nearest one, which had been erected outside Flourish and Blotts under a striped, stained awning, had a cardboard sign pinned to its front:

_Amulets: Effective Against Werewolves, Dementors and Inferi_

A seedy-looking little wizard was rattling armfuls of silver symbols on chains at passers-by.

"One for your little girl, madam?" he called at Mrs Weasley as they passed, leering at Ginny. "Protect her pretty little neck?"

Mr Weasley started towards the amulet seller but Emma put a hand on his arm and whispered "Let me deal with him." More loudly, she said "Why would you need those rusty old things? I mean, if you were clever, then you would be able to cast spells to protect yourself and your family. Anyone who buys them is obviously thick!"

This put of everyone who were going to buy are. The amulet seller glared angrily at Emma who winked.

Mrs Weasley was nervously consulting a list. "I think we'd better do Madam Malkin's first, Hermione wants new dress robes and Ron's showing too much ankle in his school robes, and you must need new ones too, Harry, you've grown so much, and your dresses are looking a bit tired, Emma- come on, everyone..."

"Mrs Weasley, it doesn't make sense for all us us to go to Madam Malkin's" said Emma. "Why don't I, Harry, Hermione and Ron go with Hagrid, and you, Mr Weasley and Ginny can go to Flourish and Blotts and get everyone's school books?"

"I don't know" said Mrs Weasley anxiously, clearly torn between a desire to finish the shopping quickly and the wish to stick together in a pack. "Hagrid, do you think...?"

"Don' fret, they'll be fine with me, Molly" said Hagrid soothingly, waving an airy hand the size of a dustbin lid.

Mrs Weasley did not look entirely convinced, but allowed the separation, scurrying off towards Flourish and Blotts with her husband and Ginny while Harry, Ron, Hermione, Emma and Hagrid set off for Madam Malkin's.

"Its history repeating it's self" Emma murmured.

Harry noticed that many of the people, including Emma, who passed them, had the same harried, anxious look as Mrs Weasley, and that nobody was stopping to talk anymore; the shoppers stayed together in their own tightly knit groups, moving intently about their business. Nobody seemed to be shopping alone.

Harry then realised this was probably what it was like sixteen years ago. That was what Emma had meant when she had said that it was history repeating it's self.

"Migh' be a bit of a squeeze in there with all o' us" said Hagrid, stopping outside Madam Malkin's and bending down to peer through the window. "I'll stand guard outside, all righ'?"

So Harry, Ron, Hermione and Emma entered the little shop together. I appeared, as first glance, to be empty, but no sooner had the door swing shut behind them they heard a familiar voice issuing from behind a rack of dress robes in spangled green and blue.

"...not a child, in case you haven't noticed, Mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone."

There was a clicking noise and a voice they recognised as Madam Malkin said "Now, dear, your mother is quite right. None of us is supposed to go wandering around on our own anymore. It's nothing to do with being a child..."

"Watch where you're sticking that pin, will you!"

A teenage boy with a pale, pointed face and white-blond hair appeared from behind the rack wearing a handsome set of dark green robes that glittered with pins around the hem and the edges of the sleeves. He strode to the mirror and examined himself; it was a few moments before he noticed Harry, Ron, Hermione and Emma reflected over his shoulder. His light grey eyes narrowed.

"If you're wondering what the smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walking in" said Draco Malfoy.

"I don't think there's any need for language like that!" said Madam Malkin, scurrying out from behind the cloths rack and holding a tape measure and a wand. "And I don't want wands drawn in my shop, either!" she added hastily, for a glance towards the door had sown her Harry and Ron both standing there with their wands out and pointing at Malfoy.

Hermione, who was standing slightly behind them next to Emma, whispered "No, don't, honestly, it's not worth it..."

"Who blackened your eye, Granger?" Malfoy sneered. "I want to send them flowers."

"I'll be sure to let George and Fred Weasley that" said Emma though her insides were bubbling with hatred and anger that threatened to explode.

"A look of disgust crossed Malfoy's features before her said "Mother, I don't think I want these anymore..."

He pulled the robes over his head and threw them onto the floor at Madam Malkin's feet.

"You're right, Draco" said Narcissa Malfoy, with a contemptuous glance at Hermione "now I think the kind of scum that shops here... we'll do better at Twilfitt and Tatting's."

And with that, the pair of them strode out of the shop, Malfoy taking care to bang as hard as he could into Emma on his way out causing her to groan in pain and she rubbed her shoulder, wincing.

Madam Malkin was distracted all the way through the fitting of Emma's dress and through the fitting of Ron and Harry's new robes, tried to sell Hermione wizard dress robes instead of witch's, and when she finally bowed them out of the shop it was with an air of being glad to see the back of them.

"Got ev'rything?" asked Hagrid bright when they reappeared at his side.

"Just about" said Harry. "Did you see the Malfoys?"

"Yeah" said Hagrid, just as unconcerned as Emma.

"Don't worry, Harry" Emma said soothingly. "They wouldn't dare make trouble in the middle of Diagon Alley in the middle of the day."

Suddenly, Mrs and Mrs Weasley and Ginny appeared, all clutching heavy packages of books which stopped them replying to Emma's words.

"Everyone all right?" said Mrs Weasley. "Got your robes? Right them, we can pop in at the apothecary and Eeylops on the way to Fred and George's- stick close now..."

They headed further along the street in search of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, the joke shop run by Fred and George, with Mrs Weasley checking her watch every minute or so.

"We really haven't got too long" Mrs Weasley said. "So we'll just have a quick look around and then back to the car. We must be close, that's number ninety-two... ninety-four..."

"Whoa" said Ron, stopping in his tracks and Emma giggled.

Set against the dull, poster-muffled shop fronts around them, Fred and George's windows hit the eye like a firework display. Casual passers-by were looking back over their shoulders at the window, and a few rather stunned-looking people had actually come to a halt, transfixed. The left-hand window was dazzlingly full of an assortment of goods that revolved, popped, flashed, bounced and shrieked; Harry's eyes began to water just looking at it. The right-hand window was covered with a gigantic poster, purple like those of the Ministry, but emblazoned with flashing yellow letters:

_Why Are You Worrying About You-Know-Who?_

_You SHOULD Be Worrying About_

_U-NO-POO-_

_The Constipation Sensation that's Gripping the Nation!_

Harry started to laugh. He heard a weak sort of moan beside him and looked round to see Mrs Weasley gazing, dumbfounded, at the poster. Her lips moved, silently mouthing the name "U-No-Poo."

"They'll be murdered in their beds!" she whispered.

"No they won't!" said Ron, who like Harry was laughing. "This is brilliant!"

"Don't worry" Emma grinned. "Like I said, I'm keeping a sharp eye open; two if I can spare it."

And she, Ron and Harry led the way into the shop. It was packed with customers; Harry could not get near the shelves. He stared around, looking up at the boxes piled to the ceiling: here were the Skiving Snackboxes that the twins had perfected during their last, unfinished year at Hogwarts; Harry noticed that the Nosebleed Nougat was most popular, with only one battered box left on the shelf. There were bins full of trick wands, the cheapest merely turning into rubber chickens or pairs of pants when waved; the most expensive beating the unwary user around the head and neck; boxes of quills, which came in Self-Inking, Spell-Checking and Smart-Answer varieties. A space cleared in the crowd and Harry pushed his way towards the counter with Emma and Hermione.

Hermione read the back of a package:

"'_One simple incantation and you will enter a top-quality, highly realistic thirty-minute daydream, easy to fit into the average school lesson and virtually undetectable (side-effects include vacant expression and minor drooling). Not for sale to under-sixteen's.' _You know" said Hermione, looking up at Harry and Emma "that really is extraordinary magic!"

"For that, Hermione" said a voice behind them "you can have one for free."

A beaming Fred stood before them, wearing a set of magenta robes that clashed magnificently with his flaming hair.

"Hey friend" Emma laughed, hugging him tightly.

"And how is my little sister?" Fred grinned.

"I'm not your little sister yet" Emma corrected him. "You have to wait till after the wedding to call me that."

"You were already my little sister" Fred winked causing Emma to blush deeply, making her dark red-hair look even darker.

"How are you, Harry?" They shook hands. "And what's happened to your eye, Hermione?"

"Your punching telescope" she said ruefully.

"Oh, blimey, I forgot about those" said Fred. "Here..."

He pulled a tub out of his pocket and handed it to her; she unscrewed it gingerly to reveal a thick yellow paste.

"Jut dab it on, that bruise will be gone within the hour" said Fred. "We had to find a decent bruise-remover; we're testing most of our products on ourselves."

"And me" Emma added, who was now dancing in her tip-toes, obviously looking around for George.

Hermione looked nervous "It is safe, isn't it?"

"Course it is" said Fred bracingly. "Come on, Harry, Emma, I'll give you a tour."

Harry and Emma left Hermione dabbing her black eye with the paste and followed Fred towards the back of the shop, where they saw a stand of card and rope tricks.

"Muggle magic tricks!" said Fred happily, pointing them out. "For freaks like Dad, you know who loved Muggle stuff. It's not a big earner, but we do fairly steady business, they're great novelties... oh, here's George..."

Fred's twin shook Harry's hand energetically and pulled Emma into a big bear hug. Emma's smile could have lit up whole shop if it was possible.

"So, has Em told you the news?" George grinned.

"Yeah" Harry grinned back. "Congratulations."

Emma turned around in George's arms so he was still holding her but she was also facing Harry and Fred.

"Giving them the tour?" asked George. "Come through the back. That's where were making the real money."

"Pocket anything, you, and you'll pay in more than Galleons!" Emma added warningly to a small boy who hastily whipped his hand out of the tub labelled: Edible Dark Marks- They'll make Anyone Sick!

George pushed back a curtain beside the Muggle tricks while still holding Emma's hand and Harry saw a darker, less crowded room. The packaging on the products lining these shelves was more subdued.

"We've just developed this more serious line" said Fred. "Finn how it happened..."

"You wouldn't believe how many people, even people who work at the Ministry, can't do a decent Shield Charm" said Emma.

"Of course, they didn't have you two teaching them" Fred said.

"That's right..." George agreed. "Well, we thought Shield Hats were a bit of a laugh. You know, challenge your mate to jinx you while wearing it and watch his face when the jinx bounces off. But the Ministry bought five hundred for its entire support staff! And we're still getting massive orders!"

"Handy" said Harry, impressed.

"Yeah" Fred nodded. "Emma's helping us create Shield Nail-varnish."

"I've just got to stop it from turning the wearer blue" Emma chuckled, rolling up her sleeve slightly to reveal a blue splotch on her skin.

A young witch with short blonde hair poked her head round the curtain; Harry saw that she too was wearing magenta staff robes.

"There's a customer out here looking for a joke cauldron, Mr Weasley and Mr Weasley" she said.

Harry and Emma found it odd to hear Fred and George called 'Mr Weasley' but they took it in their stride.

"Right you are, Verity, I'm coming" said Fred promptly. "You two, help yourselves to anything you want, all right? No charge."

"We can't do that!" said Garry and Emma together, already pulling out their money-bags to pay for the Decoy Detonators.

"You don't pay here" said Fred firmly, waving away Harry and Emma's gold.

"But..." Harry stared.

"You gave us our start- up loan, Harry, and you help us work things out, Emma, we haven't forgotten" said George sternly. "Take whatever you like, and just remember to tell people where you got it, if they ask."

Fred swept off through the curtain to help with the customers and, seen as Harry was preoccupied with the stuff, George and Emma slipped off to the bedroom upstairs.

George guided Emma into the room by her shoulders and shut the door quietly behind him before casting a couple of spells.

"Okay, tell me what's wrong" he said, rounding on Emma with such a serious expression on his face that it shocked even her.

"What do you mean?" she stuttered, hoping that he didn't mean what she thought he meant.

"Don't play dumb with me, Em. I know when you upset" said George who was now guiding her over to the bed in the corner.

"Fine" she grumbled and reached into her bag.

She pulled out the velvet purple book that Sirius had given her. She handed it to George who, after glancing at Emma, opened it and scanned the pages. Once he was finished, he looked back up at her with the same confused expression she had worn when she had first read it.

"I'm confused" he admitted, handing it back to her.

"That makes two of us" Emma said. "But I figured a couple of things out. One; the three things that was in that story are real, though probably lost."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I have proof" Emma answered. "Harry's cloak. It's perfect. More than perfect. It's the best. You wouldn't be able to find another clock like it."

"You think his cloak is the cloak that was given to the youngest brother?" he asked sceptically.

"I know it sounds crazy" Emma sighed, resting her head against his chest. "It's just a mere hunch."

"It's a good one" George smiled.

"Hmmm" Emma mumbled, lost in his scent. She was surprised that it didn't cause a burn in her throat, but a burn in her heart.

She kissed her eagerly on the lips for a couple of minutes.

"What was that for?" George said breathlessly.

"For caring" Emma whispered simply. "And for being there for me."

"You know" George laughed "we have to start planning the wedding sometime. I mean, it's not gonna take care of its self."

"Hmm, but you've got the joke shop" Emma argued. She didn't know why she was putting this off. Was it because she was scared? Was she getting cold feet? 'No' she though 'I'm defiantly not getting cold feet.'

"Nah, don't worry about me" George said.

Suddenly, he got up and walked over to a dresser opposite them. A couple of minutes later he came back with some books.

"I thought you'd be the one planning most of it so I thought you might need these" he said, holding them out to her. She took them from him and had a flick through.

"Wow, where did you get these!" she said, looking up with him with dazzling lights in her eyes.

"Well, it was mum's from when she was getting married to dad and wondered whether or not we would want them" George smiled. "We all know how much you loved the 19's."

"You and your family are all so sweet!" Emma laughed. "God, I could totally use these." She grabbed a pen and paper from her bag and started sketching. "I'm planning on making the dresses for me, Ginny and Hermione. What about this for the brides-maid dresses?"

She held up a sketch. George had to hand it to her; she was one hell of a dress maker. It was perfect! It was went straight down to the knees and was a pale gold. There was an even lighter pink ribbon that went around the waist and had single straps.

"Wow" was all he could say.

"And that reminds me. I so have to have a talk to you about that uniform of yours" she teased him. They both laughed.

Emma smirked.

"What?" asked George.

"Oh, I was just thinking there is probably gonna be more red-heads in the crowd than anything else" she grinned. She took a deep breath and said "Wow. I can't believe I'm really getting married. It makes me feel faint with excitement just thinking about it."

"George chuckled and said "Yeah, me too."

Emma smiled brightly again. Yes, she was getting married to the man she loved and no-one could stop her. Not even Lord Voldemort. If only she could tell him about her possible future. People in a relationship shouldn't have to lie to each other.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The Slug Club

Harry spent a lot of the last week of the holidays talking to Emma the meaning of Malfoy's behaviour in Knockturn Alley. What disturbed Emma the most was the description Harry had given her about how satisfied Malfoy had looked. Nothing that made Malfoy look that happy could be good news. To Harry's slight annoyance, however, neither Ron nor Hermione seemed quite as curious about it and Emma didn't seem to worried abou it as he was; or least, they seemed to get bored of discussing it after a few days.

"Yes, I've already agreed it was fishy, Harry" said Hermione a little impatiently. She was sitting on the window-sill in Fred and George's room with her feet up on one of the cardboard boxes and had only grudgingly looked up form hr new copy of _Advanced Rune Translation._

"Haven't we agreed there could be lot of explanations?" said Emma just as impatiently who was curled up at the end of one of the beds, looking at a wedding planner and trying to figure out a list of people who she was going to invite.

"Maybe he's broken his Hand of Glory" said Ron vaguely, as he attempted to straighten his broomstick's bent tail twigs. "Remember that shrivelled-up arm Malfoy had?"

"But what about when he said 'Don't forget to keep that one sage'?" asked Harry for the umpteenth time. "That sounded to me like Borgin's got another one of the broken objects, and Malfoy wants both."

"You reckon?" said Ron, now trying to scrape some dirt off his broom handle causing Emma to sigh, wave her wand and got the dirt off by herself.

"Yeah, I do" said Harry. When neither Ron nor Hermione nor Emma answered, he said "Malfoy's father's in Azkaban. Don't you think Malfoy would like revenge?

Ron looked up, blinking.

"Malfoy, revenge? What can he do about it?"

"That's my point I don't know!" said Harry frustrated. "But he's up to something and I think we should take it seriously. His father's a Death Eater and..."

Harry broke off, his eyes fixed on the window behind Hermione, his mouth open. A startling thought had just occurred to him.

"Harry?" said Emma and Hermione in anxious voices. "What's wrong?"

"Your scar's not hurting again is it?" asked Ron nervously.

"He's a Death Eater" said Harry slowly. "He's replaced his father as a Death Eater!"

There was a silence, and then Ron erupted in laughter.

"Malfoy? He's sixteen, Harry! You think You-Know-Who would let Malfoy join?"

"It seems very unlikely, Harry" aid Hermione, in a repressive sort of voice. "What makes you think...?"

"In Madam Malkin's. She didn't touch him, but he yelled and jerked his arm away from her when she went to roll up his sleeve. It was his left arm. He's been branded with the Dark Mark."

Ron, Hermione and Emma looked at each other.

"Well..." said Ron, sounding thoroughly unconvinced.

"I think he just wanted to get out there, Harry" said Emma quietly.

"He showed Borgin something we couldn't see" Harry pressed on stubbornly. "Something that seriously scared Borgin. It was the Mark, I know it- he was showing Borgin who he was dealing with, you saw how seriously Borgin took him!"

Ron, Hermione and Emma exchanged another look.

"Listen to me, Harry" said Emma, sitting up. "You are meddling in something that shouldn't be meddled in. I and Dumbledore are taking care of it. But I can assure you, he is not a Death Eater. I would know about it."

Annoyed, but absolutely convinced her was right, Harry huffed, folded his arms stubbornly and didn't speak to them for the rest of the day.

Their departure the following morning was smoother than usual. The Ministry cars glided up to the front of The Burrow to find them waiting: trunks packed, Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, safely enclosed in his travelling basket and Hedwig, Ron's owl Pigwidgeon, Emma's Phoenix Fino and Ginny's new purple Pygmy Puff, Arnold, in cages.

"Au revoir, 'Arry" said Fleur throatily, kissing him goodbye.

Ron hurried forwards, looking hopeful, but Ginny stuck out her foot and Ron fell, sprawling in the dust at Fleur's feet. Furious, red-faced and dirt-splattered, he hurried into the car without saying goodbye.

There was no cheerful Hagrid waiting for them at King's Cross Station. Instead, two grim-faced, bearded Aurors in dark Muggle suits moved forwards the moment the cars stopped and, flanking the party, marched them into the station without speaking.

"Quick, quick, through the barrier" said Mrs Weasley, who seemed a little flustered by this austere efficiency. "Harry and Emma had better go first, with..."

She looked enquiringly at one of the Aurors, who nodded briefly, seized Harry and Emma's upper arms and attempted to steer them towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

"We can walk, thanks" said Emma irritably, jerking her arm out of the Auror's grip and yanking him of her brother. She pushed her trolley directly at the solid barrier, ignoring her silent companion, and found herself, a second later, standing on platform nine and three-quarters, where the scarlet Hogwarts Express stood belching steam over the crowd where she was quickly joined by Harry, looking just as irritated as she felt.

Hermione and the Weasleys joined them within seconds. Without waiting to consult their grim-faced Auror, Harry and Emma motioned to Ron and Hermione to follow them up the platform, looking for an empty compartment.

"We can't, remember" said Hermione, looking apologetic. "Ron and I've got to go to the prefect carriage first and then patrol the corridors for a bit.

"Oh yeah, we forgot" said Harry.

"You'd better get straight on the train, all of you, you've only got a few minutes to go" said Mrs Weasley, consulting her watch. "Well, have a lovely term, Ron..."

They hurried forwards and Mr and Mrs Weasley helped them load their trunks onto the train.

"Now, dears, you're both coming to us for Christmas, it's all fixed with Dumbledore, so we'll see you quite soon" said Mrs Weasley through the window, as Emma slammed the door shut behind them and the train began to move. "You make sure you look after yourselves and be good and stay safe!"

Harry and Emma waved until the train had turned a corner and Mr and Mrs Weasley were lost from view, the turned to see where the others had got to. They supposed Ron and Hermione were cloistered in the prefect carriage, but Ginny was a little way along the corridor, chatting to some friends. They made their way towards her, dragging their trunks.

People stared shamelessly as they approached. They even pressed their faces against the windows of their compartment to get a look at them. They had expected an upswing in the amount of gaping and gawping they would have to endure this term after all the 'Chosen Ones' rumours in the _Daily Prophet, _but they did not enjoy the sensation of standing in a very bright spotlight.

Emma let Harry do the talking. After all, this is where Harry's and Ginny's relationship started. He tapped Ginny on the shoulder.

"Fancy trying to find a compartment?"

"I can't, I said I'd meet Dean" said Ginny brightly. "See you two later."

Emma winked at Ginny behind Harry's back, letting her know she was doing it right. Ginny merely smiled back at her as not to be too obvious in front of Harry.

"Right" said Harry. He blinked and looked around: they were surrounded by memorised girls and boys.

"Hi Harry! Hi Emma" said a familiar voice from behind them.

"Neville" said Harry and Emma breathed a sigh in relief, turning around to see a round-faced boy struggling towards them.

"Hello, you two" said a girl with long hair and large, misty eyes, who was just behind Neville.

"Luna, hi, how are you?" Emma smiled warmly at her.

"Very well, thank you" Luna replied. She was clutching a magazine to her chest; large letters on the front announced that there was a pair of free Spectrespess inside.

"_The Quibbler _still going strong, then?" Emma asked. They developed a certain fondness for the magazine, having given it an exclusive interview the previous year.

"Oh yes, circulation's well up" said Luna happily.

"Let's find seats" said Harry, and the four of them set off along the train through hordes of silently staring students. At last they found an empty compartment and Harry and Emma hurried inside gratefully while Emma was muttering about something to with the feeling of being in a zoo.

"They're ever staring at us" said Neville, indicating to himself and Luna "because we are with you two!"

"They're staring at you because you were at the Ministry, too" said Harry, helping Emma get her trunk in to the luggage tack. "Our little adventure there was all over the _Daily Prophet, _you must have seen it."

"Yes, I thought Gran would be angry about all the publicity" said Neville "but she was really pleased. Says I'm starting to live up to my dad at long last. She brought me a new wand, look!"

He pulled it out and showed it to Harry and Emma.

"Cherry and unicorn hair" he said proudly. "We think it was one of the last Ollivander ever sold, he vanished the next day- oi, come back here, Trevor!"

And he dived under the seat to retrieve his toad as it made one of its frequent bids for freedom.

Out of the blue, there was a disturbance outside their compartment door; a group of fourth-year girls and boys were whispering together on the other side of the glass.

"You ask them!"

"No, you!"

"I'll do it!"

And one of the girls, a bold-looking girl with large dark eyes, a prominent chin and long black hair, pushed her way through the door.

"Hi Harry, Hi Emma, I'm Romilda, Romilda Vane" she said loudly and confidently. "Why don't you come and join us in our compartment? You don't have to sit with them" she added in a stage whisper, indicating to Neville's bottom, which was sticking out from under the seat as he groped around for Trevor, and Luna, who was now wearing her free Spectrespess, which gave her the look of a demented, multicoloured owl.

"They're friends of ours" said Harry and Emma together coldly.

"Oh" said the girl, looking very surprised. "Oh. Okay."

And she withdrew, sliding the door closed behind her.

"People expect you two to have cooler friends than us" said Luna, once again displaying her knack for embarrassing honesty.

"You are cool" Emma insisted. "None of them were at the Ministry with us. They didn't fight with us."

"That's a very nice thing to say" beamed Luna, and she pushed her Spectrespess further up her nose and settled down to read _The Quibbler._

"We didn't face him, though" said Neville, emerging from under the seat with fluff and dust in his hair which Emma kindly removed with a flick of her wand and with a resigned-looking Trevor in his hand. "You two did. You should hear my Gran talk about you two. _"Those Potters have more backbone than the whole Ministry put together!" _she's give anything to have you two in the family..."

Harry and Emma both laughed uncomfortably and changed the subject to O.W.L results as soon as they could. Emma noticed that Harry had an odd vacant expression on his face and knew that he was thinking about the connection between him and Neville.

"You all right, Harry? You look a little funny" said Neville.

Harry started.

"Sorry...I..."

"Wrackspurt got you?" asked Luna sympathetically, peering at Harry through her enormous coloured Spectrespess.

"I...what?"

"A Wrackspurt... they're invisible, they float in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy she said. "I thought I felt one zooming around in here."

She flapped her hands at thin air, as though beating off large invisible moths. Harry, Emma and Neville caught each other's eye and hastily began to talk about Quidditch.

The weather beyond the train was a patchy as it had been all summer: they passed through stretches at the chilling mist, then out into weak, clear sunlight. It was during one of the clear spells, when the sun was visible almost directly overhead, that Ron and Hermione came into their compartment at last.

"Wish the lunch trolley would hurry up, I'm starving" said Ron longingly, slumping in to the seat between Harry and Emma and rubbing his stomach.

"Hello to you to" Emma commented.

"Hi Neville, Hi Luna" Ron said, ignoring Emma's comment. "Guess what?" he added, turning to Harry. "Malfoy's not doing prefect duty. He's just sitting in his compartment with the other Slytherins, we saw him as we passed."

Harry sat up straighter, interested. It was not like Malfoy to pass up the chance to demonstrate his power as a prefect, which he had happily abused all the previous year. Emma merely rolled her eyes at Ron's comment and started to chat to Hermione and Neville.

"What did he do when he saw you?"

"The usual" said Ron indifferently, demonstrating a rude hand gesture causing Emma and Hermione to exclaim "RON!" which he ignored. "Not like him, though, is it. Well...that is..." he did the hand gesture again causing Emma and Hermione to shout at him which he ignored again "but why isn't he out there bullying first years?"

"Dunno" said Harry, but his mind was racing. Didn't this look as though Malfoy had more important things on his mind than bullying the younger students?

"Maybe he preferred the Inquisitorial Squad" Emma suggested with a sigh, as if she rather not join in with the conversation and that she didn't really believe her idea herself. "Maybe being a prefect seems a bit tame after that."

"I don't think so" said Harry. "I think he's..."

But before he could expound on his theory, the compartment door slid open again and a breathless third-year girl stepped inside.

"I'm supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom and Harry and Emma P-Potter" she faltered as her eyes met Harry and Emma's and she turned scarlet. She was holding out three scrolls of parchment tied with blood red ribbon. Perplexed, Harry, Emma and Neville took the scroll addressed to each of them and the girl stumbled out of the compartment.

"What is it?" Ron demanded, as Harry and Emma unrolled theirs.

"It's an imitation" Emma said and read hers aloud:

_Emma,_

_I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C._

_Sincerely, Professor H.E.F Slughorn._

"Who's Professor Slughorn?" asked Neville, looking perplexedly at his own invitation.

"New teacher" said Harry. "Well, I suppose we'll have to go, won't we?"

"But what does he want me for?" asked Neville nervously, as though he was expecting a detention.

"No idea" said Emma. This was not entirely true, though she had no proof yet that her hunch was correct.

"Listen" Harry said suddenly, seized by a sudden brainwave "let's go under the Invisibility Cloak. Then we might get a good look at Malfoy on the way; see what he's up to."

This idea, however, came to nothing: the corridors, which were packed with people on the lookout for the lunch trolley, were impossible to negotiate while wearing the Cloak. Harry stowed it regretfully back in his bag, and Emma reflected that it would have been nice to wear it just to avoid all the staring, which seemed to have increased in intensity even since they had last walked down the train. Every now and then students would hurtle out of their compartments to get a better look at them. The exception was Cho Chang, who darted into her compartment when she saw Harry and Emma coming. As they passed the window they saw her deep in determined conversation with her friend Marietta, who was wearing a very thick of makeup that did entirely obscure the odd formation of pimples still etched across her face. Smirking slightly, Emma pushed Harry on.

When they reached compartment C, they saw at once that they were not Slughorn's only invitees, although judging by the enthusiasm of Slughorn's welcome, Harry and Emma were the most warmly anticipated.

"Harry, m'boy. And this must be your lovely sister, Emma!" said Slughorn, jumping up at the sight of them so that his great velvet-covered belly seemed to full all the remaining space in the compartment. His shiny bald head and great silver moustache gleamed as brightly in the sunlight as the golden buttons on his waistcoat. "Good to see you both, good to see you! And this must be Mr Longbottom!"

Neville nodded, looking scared. At a gesture from Slughorn, Harry and Emma sat down opposite Neville in the only three empty seats, which were nearest the door. Emma glanced around at their fellow guests. She recognised a Slytherin from their year, a tall black boy with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes; there were also two seventh-year boys Emma did not know and, squashed in the corner beside Slughorn and looking as though she was not entirely sure how she had got there, Ginny.

"Now, do you know everyone?" Slughorn asked Harry, Emma and Neville. "Blaise Zabini is in your year, of course..."

Zabini did not make any sign of recognition or greeting and nor did they: Gryffindor and Slytherin students loathed each other on principle and Emma was technically in Gryffindor, or at least she will be... maybe.

"This is Cormac McLaggen; perhaps you've come across each other...? No?"

McLaggen, a large, wire-haired youth, raised a hand and they nodded back at him.

"...and this is Marcus Belby, I don't know whether...?"

Belby, who was thin and nervous-looking, gave a strained smile.

"...and this charming young lady tells me she knows you three!" Slughorn finished.

Ginny grimaced at them from behind Slughorn's back. Emma smiled.

"Well now, this is most pleasant" said Slughorn cosily. "A chance to get to know you all a little better. Here, take a napkin. I've packed my own lunch, the trolley as I remember it, is heavy on Liquorice Wands, and a poor old man's digestive system isn't quite up to such things...pheasant, Belby."

Belby started, and accepted what looked like half a cold pheasant.

"I was just telling young Marcus here that I had the pleasure of teaching his Uncle Damocles" Slughorn told them, now passing around a basket of rolls. "Outstanding wizard, outstanding, and his Order of Merlin most well-deserved. Do you see much of your uncle, Marcus?"

Unfortunately, Belby had just taken a large mouthful of pheasant; in his haste to answer Slughorn he swallowed too fast, turned purple and began to choke.

"_Anapneo_" sad Emma calmly, pointing her wand at Belby, whose air way seemed to clear at once.

"Not... not much of him, no" gasped Belby, his eyes streaming.

"Well, of course, I daresay he's busy" said Slughorn, looking questioningly at Belby. "I doubt he invented the Wolfsbane Potion without considerable hard work!"

"I suppose..." said Belby, who seemed afraid to take another bite of pheasant until he was sure that Slughorn had finished with him. "Err... he and my dad don't get on very well, you see, so I don't really know much about..."

His voice tailed away as Slughorn gave him a cold smile and turned to McLaggen instead.

"Now, you, Cormac" said Slughorn "I happen to know you see a lot of your Uncle Tiberius, because he has a rather splendid picture of the two of you hunting Nogtails in, I think, Norfolk?"

"Oh, yeah, that was fun, that way" said McLaggen. "We went with Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour- this was before he became Minister, obviously..."

"Ah, you know Bertie and Rufus, too?" beamed Slughorn, now offering around a small tray of pies; somehow, Belby was missed out. "Now tell me..."

It was as Emma had suspected. Everyone here seemed to have been invited because they were connected to somebody well-known or influential- everyone except Ginny (Emma suspected she was here because of her magical talent). Zabini, who was interrogated after McLaggen, turned out to have a famously beautiful witch for a mother (from what Emma could make out, she had been married seven times, each of her husbands dying mysteriously and leaving her mounds of gold). It was Neville's turn next.

"Professor Slughorn" Emma said quietly "I don't want to seem rude or anything but I don't think it would be great for Neville to be talking about his parents if you get my drift."

"Of course" Slughorn smiled.

Neville's parents, well known Aurors, had been tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange and a couple of Death Eater cronies. Emma had the impression that Slughorn was reserving judgment on Neville, yet to see whether he had any of his parent's flair.

"And now" said Slughorn, shifting massively in his seat with the air of a compere introducing his star acts. "Harry and Emma Potter! Where to begin? I feel I barely scratched the surface when we met over the summer, Harry. And, of course, we barely chatted seven years ago, Emma!"

He contemplated Harry and Emma for a moment as though they were a particularly large and succulent piece of pheasant, then said "The 'Chosen Ones', they are calling you two now!"

Neither Harry nor Emma said anything. Belby, McLaggen and Zabini were all staring at them.

"Of course" said Slughorn, watching them closely "there have been rumours for years... I remember when...well...after that terrible night...Lily...James...and you two survived...and the word was that you must have powers beyond the ordinary..."

Zabini gave a tiny little cough that was clearly supposed to indicate amused scepticism. An angry voice burst out from behind Slughorn.

"Yeah, Zabini, because you're so talented...at posing..."

"Oh dear!" chuckled Slughorn comfortably, looking round at Ginny who was glaring at Zabini around Slughorn's belly. "You want to be careful, Blaise! I saw this young lady perform the most marvellous Bat Bogey Hex as I was passing her carriage! I wouldn't cross her!"

Emma's suspicion was conformed. Zabini merely looked contemptuous.

"Anyway" said Slughorn, turned back to Harry and Emma. "Such rumours this summer. Of course, one doesn't know what to believe, the _Prophet _has been known to print inaccuracies, make mistakes- but there seems little doubt, given the number of witnesses, that there was quite a disturbance at the Ministry and that you two were there in the thick of it all!"

"Yes" said Emma shortly, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

"So modest, so modest, no wonder Dumbledore is so fond of you two- you two were there, then? but the rest of the stories- so sensational, of course, one doesn't know quite what to believe..."

"Ginny and Neville were there to" Emma said quickly. "I only heard parts of the prophecy."

"Really?" Slughorn said, even more interested- if that was possible- than before. "What did it say?"

Even the Slytherin guy was interested, though he was doing a good job of hiding it.

"I'm sorry. I can't tell you that" said Emma.

"Ah, yes, of course" said Slughorn, sounding a little disappointed. "I remember dear Gwenog telling me- Gwenog Jones, I mean, of course, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies..."

He meandered off into a long-winded reminiscence, but Harry and Emma had the distinct impression that Slughorn had not finished with them, and that he was convinced that he could worm the truth out of Emma. 'Good luck to him' Harry thought.

The afternoon wore on with more anecdotes about illustrious wizards Slughorn had taught, all of whom had been delighted to join what he called the 'Slug Club' at Hogwarts. Emma could not wait to leave, but couldn't see how to do so politely. Finally the train emerged from yet another long misty stretch into a red sunset, and Slughorn looked around, blinking in the twilight.

"Good gracious, it's getting dark already! I didn't notice that they'd lit the lamps! You'd better go and change into your robes, all of you. McLaggen, you must drop by and borrow that book on Nogtails. Harry, Emma, Blaise, any time you're passing. Same goes for you, miss" he twinkled at Ginny. "Well, of you go, off you go!"

As he pushed past Harry and Emma into the darkening corridor, Zabini shot them a filthy look that they returned. They, Ginny and Neville followed Zabini back along the train.

"I'm glad that's over" muttered Neville. "Strange man, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he is a bit" Emma agreed, nodding.

"How come you ended up in there, Ginny?" asked Harry curiously, his eyes on Zabini.

"He saw me hex Zacharias Smith" said Ginny "you remember that idiot from Hufflepuff who was in the DA? He kept on and on asking about what happened at the Ministry and in the end he annoyed me so much I hexed him- when Slughorn came in I thought I was going to get a detention, but he just thought it was a really good hex and invited me to lunch!"

"You go girl!" Emma laughed. "At least you didn't get interrogated about your whole life, including on how became a flipping vampire for goodness sake!"

Ginny, Neville and Harry joined in with Emma's laughter.

Emma bit her lip. She really hoped Harry wouldn't do what she thought he was going to do.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Snape victorious

"Where've you- blimey, what've you done to your face?" said Ron, goggling at him along with everyone else in the vicinity.

"Why, what's wrong with it?" said Harry, grabbing a spoon and squinting at his distorted reflection.

"You're covered in blood!" said Hermione.

"Come here..." Emma said sympathetically and raised her wand and said "_Tergeo!"_ and siphoned off the dried blood.

"Thanks" said Harry, feeling his now clean face. "How's my nose looking?"

"Normal" said Emma, taking deep breaths, trying to calm herself. "Well, you didn't miss the sorting. If fact, it's just starting."

Emma watched nervously as the first-years were sorted and then, finally, Professor McGonagall said "Potter, Emma."

The whole hall went silent and Emma got shakily to her feet and walked determinedly to the stall, ignoring the stares she was getting.

"Ah" said the hat once it was on her head "you are a very curious girl. Yes, very curious. Yo would do well in Slytherin, just like your bother. But I suppose you would like to join him."

It wasn't a question but Emma thought "Yes please" anyway.

"Very well" the hat replied and shouted "Gryffindor!"

The Gryffindors cheered loudly and Emma skipped back to her seat, smiling brightly.

"I didn't know you were getting sorted this year!" Hermione exclaimed as the feast began.

"You never asked" Emma grinned.

"Anything else we need to know about while you're at it, Em?" Seamus winked.

"That's about it" Emma said.

"Has Dumbledore mentioned Voldemort at all?"

"Not yet, but he always saves his proper speech for after the feast, doesn't he?" Hermione said. "It can't be long now."

"Snape said Hagrid was late for the feast..."

"You've seen Snape? How come?" said Ron between frenzied mouthfuls of gateau.

"Bumped into him" said Harry evasively and Emma chuckled.

"Hagrid was only a few minutes late" said Hermione. "Look, he's waving at you two."

Harry and Emma looked up at the staff table and grinned at Hagrid, who was indeed waving at them. Hagrid had never quite managed to comport himself with the dignity of Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, the top of whose head came up to somewhere between Hagrid's elbow and shoulder as they were sitting side by side, and who was looking disapproving at this enthusiastic greeting.

Emma saw Draco miming the shattering of a nose to raucous laughter and applause. With a wink at Harry, she clicked her fingers and Malfoy started to choke on his food. Harry sent her a grateful smile as they watch Parkinson trying to stop Malfoy choking.

"So what did Professor Slughorn want with you two?" Hermione asked.

"To know what really happened at the Ministry" said Harry and Emma together.

"Him and everyone else here" sniffed Hermione. "People were interrogating us about it on the train, weren't they, Ron?"

"Yeah" said Ron. "All of them wanted to know if you two really are the Chosen Ones..."

"There has been much talk on that very subject even amongst the ghosts" interrupted Nearly Headless Nick, inclining his barely connected head towards Harry and Emma so that it wobbled dangerously on its ruff. "I am considered something of a Potters authority; it is widely known that we are friendly. I have assured the spirit community that I will not pester you two for information, however. "Harry and Emma Potter both know that they can confide in me with complete confidence" I told them. "I would rather die than betray their trust in me.""

"Aww thanks Sir Nicolas" Emma smiled at him.

"That's not saying much, seeing as you're already dead" Ron observed and Emma slapped him on the shoulder pretty hard.

"Once again, you show all the sensitivity of a blunt axe" said Nearly Headless Nick in affronted tones, and he rose into the air and glided back towards in far end of the Gryffindor table just as Dumbledore got to his feet at the staff table. The talk and laughter echoing around the Hall died away almost instantly.

"The very best of evenings to you!" he said, smiling broadly, his arms opened wide as though to embrace the whole room.

"What happened to his hadn?" gasped Hermione.

"Don't worry about it" Emma hissed.

She was not the only one who had noticed. Dumbledore's right hand was as blackened and dead-looking as it had been on the night he had come to fetch Harry from the Dursleys'. Whispers swept the room; Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his purple and gold sleeve over his injury.

"Nothing to worry about" he said airily. "Now, we are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."

There were mutters around the room but Dumbledore ignored them.

"Professor Snape, meanwhile" he said, raising his voice so that it carried over all the muttering "will be taking over the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength."

The muttering stopped. Everyone was deadly quiet.

"I cannot emphasise strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how must care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. Miss Potter has kindly strengthened and added stronger enchantments but we all must still be on out guard. I implore you, should you noticed anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and each other's safety."

Dumbledore's blue eyes swept over the students before he smiled once more.

"But now, your beds wait, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say goodnight. Pip, pip!"

With the usual deafening scraping noise, the benches were moved back and the hundreds of students began to file out of the Great Hall towards their dormitories. Harry, who was in no hurry at all to leave with the gawping crowd, or to get near enough to Malfoy to allow him to retell the story of the nose-stamping, lagged behind, pretending to retie the lace on his trainer, allowing most of the Gryffindors to draw ahead of him. Hermione had darted ahead to fulfil her prefect's duty of shepherding the first-years, but Ron and Emma remained with Harry.

"What really happened to your nose?" Ron asked, once they were at the very back of the throng pressing out of the Hall, and out of earshot of anyone else.

Emma told him. Emma realised that it was a mark of the strength of Harry and Ron's friendship that Ron did not laugh.

"I saw Malfoy miming something to do with a nose" he said darkly. "So that was why Emma made him choke on his own food."

"How did you know?" Emma said, looking shocked.

"You'd be surprised."

"Yeah, well, never mind that" said Harry bitterly. "Listen to what he was saying before he found out I was there..."

Harry had expected Ron and Emma to be stunned by Malfoy's boasts. With what Harry considered pure pigheadedness, however, they both were unimpressed.

"Come on, Harry, he was just showing off for Parkinson... what kind of mission would You-Know-Who have given him?" Ron said.

"Even Voldemort isn't that stupid" Emma agreed, nodding her head

"How do you two know Voldemort doesn't need someone at Hogwarts? It wouldn't be the first..."

"I wish you two'd stop sayin' tha' name" said a reproachful voice behind them. Harry and Emma looked over their shoulders to see Hagrid shaking his head.

"Dumbledore uses that name" said Emma stubbornly.

"Yeah, well, tha's Dumbledore, innit?" said Hagrid mysteriously. "So how come yeh were late, Harry? I was worried."

"Got held up on the train" said Harry.

"Why were you late?" Emma asked.

"I was with Grawp" said Hagrid happily. "Los' track o' the time. He's got a new home up in the mountains now, Dumbledore fixed it- nice big cave. He's much happier than he was in the Forest. We were havin' a good chat."

"Really?" said Emma, taking care not to catch Ron and Harry's eye; the last time they had met Hagrid's half-brother, a vicious giant with a talent for ripping up trees by the roots, his vocabulary had comprised six words, two of which he was unable to pronounce properly.

"Oh yeah, he's really come on" said Hagrid proudly. "Yeh'll be amazed. I'm thinkin' o' trainin' him up as me assistant."

Ron snorted loudly, but managed to pass it off as a violent sneeze which Emma had helped by saying "Bless you." They were now standing beside the oak front doors.

"Anyway, I'll see yeh tomorrow, firs' lesson's straight after lunch. come early an' yeh can say hello ter Buck- I mean, Witherwings!"

Raising an arm in cheery farewell, he headed out of the front doors into the darkness.

Harry, Emma and Ron looked at each other. Harry could tell that Ron and Emma were experiencing the same sinking feeling as himself.

"You're not taking Care of Magical Creatures, are you?"

Ron shook his head.

"And you're not either, are you?"

Harry shook his head, too.

"And Hermione" said Ron "she's not, is she?"

Harry shook his head again.

"And you're not taking any lessons this year either?" Harry asked Emma.

Emma shook her head. Exactly what Hagrid would say when he realised his four favourite students had given up his subject, she did not like to think.

"Ah crap!"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The Half-Blood Prince

Harry, Ron and Emma met Hermione in the common room before breakfast next morning. Hoping for some support for his theory, Harry lost no time in telling Hermione what he had overheard Malfoy saying on the Hogwarts Express.

"But he was obviously showing off for Parkinson, wasn't he?" interjected Ron quickly, before Hermione could say anything.

"Well" Hermione said uncertainly "I don't know...it would be like Malfoy to make himself seem more important that he is...but that's a big lie to tell..."

"Yeah, but I would know" Emma sighed for the hundredth time, but she could not press the point, because so many people were trying t listen in to their conversation, not to mention staring at her and Harry and whispering behind their hands.

"It's rude to point" Ron snapped at a particularly minuscule first-year as they joined the queue to climb out of the portrait hole. The boy, who had been muttering something about Harry and Emma behind his hand to his friend, promptly turned scarlet and toppled out of the hole in alarm. Ron sniggered.

"I love being a sixth-year. And we're going to be getting free time this year. Whole periods when we can just sit up here and relax."

"You're going to need that time for studying, Ron!" said Emma, as they set off down the corridor.

"Yeah, but not today" said Ron "today's going to be a real doss, I reckon."

"Hold it!" said Hermione, throwing out an arm and halting a passing fourth-year, who was attempting to push past her with a lime-green disc clutched tightly in his hand. "Fanged Frisbees are banned, hand it over" she told him sternly. The scowling boy handed over the snarling Frisbee, ducked under Hermione's arm and took off after his friends. Ron waited for him to vanish, and then tugged the Frisbee from Hermione's grip.

"Excellent, I've always wanted one of these."

Hermione's remonstration was drowned by a loud giggle; Lavender Brown had apparently found Ron's remark highly amusing. She continued to laugh as she passed them, glancing back at Ron over her shoulder. Ron looked rather pleased with himself. Emma glowered at Lavender's back. Ron was not hers! Ron was Hermione's! So she better keep her hands off of him.

The ceiling of the Great Hall was serenely blue and streaked with frail, wispy clouds, just like the squares of the sky visible through the high mullioned windows. While they tucked into porridge and eggs and bacon, Harry, Ron and Emma told Hermione about their embarrassing conversation with Hagrid the previous evening.

"But he can't really think we'd continue Care of Magical Creatures!" she said, looking distressed. "I mean, when has any of us expressed...you know... any enthusiasm?"

"That's it, though, isn't it?" said Ron, swallowing an entire fried egg whole causing Emma to throw him a disgusted look.

"You were the ones who made the most effort in classes because you like Hagrid" Emma said. "But he thinks you liked the subject. Do you reckon anyone's going to go on to N.E.W.T.?"

Neither Harry nor Hermione nor Ron answered; there was no need, they knew perfectly well that nobody in their year would want to continue Care of Magical Creatures. They avoided Hagrid's eye and returned his cheery wave only half-heartedly when he left the staff table ten minutes later.

After they had eaten, Emma remained in her place, waiting for Professor McGonagall to give Harry, Hermione and Ron their tables.

Hermione was immediately cleared to continue with Charms, Defence Against the Dark Art, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Potions, and shot off to a first-period Ancient Runes class without further ado. Neville took a little longer to sort out; his round face was anxious as Professor McGonagall looked down his application and then consulted his O.W.L results.

"Herbology, fine" she said. "Professor Sprout will be delighted to see you back with an 'Outstanding' O.W.L. And you qualify for Defence Against the Dark Arts with 'Exceeds Expectations'. But the problem is Transfiguration. I'm sorry, Longbottom, but an 'Acceptable' really isn't good enough to continue to N.E.W.T level, I just don't think you'd be able to cope with the coursework."

Neville hung his head. Professor McGonagall peered at him through her square spectacles.

"Why do you want to continue with Transfiguration, anyway? I've never had the impression that you particularly enjoyed it."

Neville looked miserable and muttered something about 'my grandmother want.'

"Humph" snorted Emma. "It's high time your grandmother learned to be proud of the grandson she's got, rather than one she thinks she ought to have- particularly after what happened at the Ministry."

Neville turned very pink.

"I'm sorry; Longbottom, but I cannot let you into my N.E.W.T class. I see that you have an 'Exceeds Expectations' in Charms, however- why not try for an N.E.W.T in Charms?" Professor McGonagall suggested.

"Take Charms" said Professor McGonagall. "And Miss Potter, if you could..."

Emma nodded and said "I'll drop Augusta a line reminding her that just because she failed her Charms O.W.L, the Subject is not necessarily worthless."

Smiling slightly at the look of delighted incredulity on Neville's face, Professor McGonagall tapped a blank timetable with the tip of her wand and handed it, now carrying details of his new classes, to Neville.

Professor McGonagall turned next to Parvati Patil whose first question was whether Firenze, the handsome centaur, was still teaching Divination.

"He and Professor Trelawney are dividing classes between them this year" said Professor McGonagall, a hint of disapproval in her voice; it was common knowledge that she despised the subject of Divination. "The sixth year is being taken by Professor Trelawney."

"Told you so" Emma whispered to Harry smugly as Parvati set off for Divination five minutes later looking slightly crestfallen.

"So, Potter, Potter..." said Professor McGonagall, consulting her notes as she turned to Harry. "Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration...all find. I must say, I was pleased with your Transfiguration mark, Potter, very pleased. Now, why haven't you applied to continue with Potions? I thought it was your ambition to become an Auror?"

"It was, but you told me I had to get an 'Outstanding' in my O.W.L, Professor."

"And so you did when Professor Snape was teaching the subject. Professor Slughorn, however, is perfectly happy to accept N.E.W.T students with 'Exceeds Expectations' at O.W.L. Do you wish to proceed with Potions?"

"Yes" said Harry "but I didn't buy the books of any ingredients or anything..."

"I'm sure Professor Slughorn will be able to lend you some" said Professor McGonagall. "Very well, Potter, here is your timetable. Oh, by the way- twenty hopefuls have already put down their names for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I shall pass the list to you in due course and you can fix up trials at your leisure."

A few minutes later, Ron was cleared to do the same subjects as Harry, and the three of them left the table together.

"Look" said Ron delightedly, gazing at his timetable "we've got a free period now...and a free period after break...and after lunch...excellent!"

They returned to the common room, which empty apart from half a dozen seventh-years was including Katie Bell, the only remaining member of the original Gryffindor Quidditch team that Harry had joined in his first year.

"I thought you'd get that, well done" she called over, pointing at the Captains badge on Harry's chest. "Tell me when you call trials!"

"Don't be stupid" said Harry- and Emma felt that he was the one being stupid there- "you don't need to try put, I've watched you play for five years..."

"You mustn't start off like that" she said warningly. "For all you know, there's someone much better than me out there. Good teams have been ruined before now because captains just kept playing the old faces, or letting in their friends..."

Ron looked a little uncomfortable and began playing with the Fanged Frisbee Hermione had taken from the forth-year. It zoomed around the common room, snarling and attempting to take bites of the tapestry. Crookshanks's yellow eyes followed it and he hissed when it came too close.

Emma shot him a sympathetic look and plunked herself down on the floor. She opened her planner and started to finish her list.

"So George finally asked" Katie laughed, looking over her shoulder.

"Ask what?" Emma asked absentmindedly.

"You to marry him" Katie said as if it was obvious and Emma's head snapped up.

"He told you?" she asked.

"Yeah, he told almost the whole team other than Harry and some others" Katie nodded. "It was hell trying to keep it a secret."

Emma laughed. "Well, you guys did a good job. I didn't even get a vision."

An hour later, Emma watched Ron and Harry reluctantly left the sunlit common room for the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom four floors below. She sighed and opened the window opposite her before jumping through it.

If she was human, it would have killed her. But being a vampire has its advantages. She landed neatly on her feet and ran off towards the Forest, taking care not to make any noise.

"You wanted to talk to me" she said once she had reached the edge of the forest.

"Yes, I did" came a female voice from the darkness but it seemed that Emma could see whoever it was.

"What do you want?" Emma asked. "I presume it's important. Make it quick though, because I have to keep an eye on my brother."

"Professor Dumbledore is in trouble" the voice replied. "Not this precise moment in time, but he will be."

"Thank you for warning me" Emma replied "but I already knew. It was planned out. Can I ask you a favour though?"

"Of course" the voice replied. "You know you're like a sister to me and my people."

"In Harry's seventh year, there will be a war. I need you and your people to help us fight him who calls himself Lord Voldemort."

"Of course" the woman's voice replied.

"Thank you; you know how much this means to me."

And, with that, both women went their separate ways for now.

Emma rushed back inside the castle and waited outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, waiting for Harry, Hermione and Ron to finish their lesson.

"That was brilliant, Harry!" chortled Ron, coming out of the classroom.

"Uh-oh; whenever Ron says Harry has done something brilliant, Harry's done something bad" Emma commented.

"Oh, he back-chatted to Professor Snape" Hermione said, frowning at Ron. "You really shouldn't have said it. What made you?"

"He tried to jinx me, in case you didn't notice!" fumed Harry.

"Ouch" Emma mumbled.

"I had enough of that during those Occlumency lessons!" Harry continued. "Why doesn't he use another guinea pig for a change? What's Dumbledore playing at, anyway, letting him teach Defence? Did you hear him talking about the Dark Arts? He loves them! All that unfixed, indestructible stuff..."

"Well" said Hermione "I thought he sounded a bit like you two."

"Like us?" Emma asked shocked.

"Yes, when you were telling us what it's like to face Voldemort. You said it wasn't just memorising a bunch of spells, you said it was just you two and your brains and your guts- well, wasn't that what Snape was saying? That it really comes down to being brave and quick-thinking?"

Harry was so disarmed that she had thought his words as well worth memorising as _The Standard Book of Spells _hat he did not argue.

"Harry! Emma!"

Harry and Emma looked round; Jack Sloper, one of the Beaters on the previous year's Gryffindor Quidditch team, was hurrying towards them holding a roll of parchment.

"For you two" panted Sloper. "Listen, I hear you're the new Captain, Harry. When are you holding trails?"

"I'm not sure yet" said Harry, thinking privately that Sloper would be very lucky to get back on the team. "I'll let you know."

"Oh, right. I was hoping it would be this weekend..."

But neither Harry nor Emma was listening; they had just recognised the thin, slanting writing on the parchment. Leaving Sloper in mid-sentence, they hurried away with Ron and Hermione, unrolling the parchment as they went.

_Dear Harry and Emma,_

_I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday. Kindly come along to my office at eight p.m. I hope you two are enjoying your first days back at school._

_Yours sincerely_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_PS. I enjoy Acid Pops._

"Brilliant" Emma grinned "Dumbledore told me to keep an eye open for one of these."

"He enjoys Acid Pops?" said Ron, who had read the message over Harry's shoulder and was looking perplexed.

"It's the password to get past the gargoyle outside the study" said Emma. "Though I don't see why he wrote that seen as I know the password already."

"Ha!" said Harry in a low voice. "Snape is not going to be pleased...I won't be able to do his detention!"

Harry, Emma, Ron and Hermione spent the whole of break speculating on what Dumbledore would be teaching them. Ron thought it most likely to be spectacular jinxes and hexes of the type the Death Eaters would not know. Hermione said such things were illegal, and thought it much more likely that Dumbledore wanted to teach them advanced defensive magic. All three of them tried to get Emma to tell them but she kept her mouth closed and said that they would have to wait and see.

They had only just finished the discussion when the bell rang for the afternoon's double Potions.

"I'm joining you this lesson" Emma commented as they walked down the familiar path down to the dungeon classroom that had, for so long, been Snape's.

"Why?" asked Ron.

"Because Dumbledore told me to" Emma replied and added as Ron opened his mouth "don't ask me why because he didn't tell me."

When they arrived in the corridor they saw that there were only a dozen progressing to N.E.W.T level. Crabbe and Goyle had evidently failed to achieve the required O.W.L grade, but four Slytherins had made it through, including Malfoy. Four Ravenclaws were there, and one Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillan, whom Harry and Emma liked despite his rather pompous manner.

"Hey Harry, Hey Emma" Ernie said portentously, holding out his hand as they approached which Emma took. "And how are you, Ron- Hermione?"

Before they could say more than 'fine', the dungeon door opened and Slughorn's belly preceded him out of the door. As they filed into the room, his great walrus moustache curved about his beaming and he greeted Harry, Emma and Zabini with particular enthusiasm.

"Ah, Emma, Dumbledore told me you would be joining us" Slughorn said happily. "How are you, m'dear, how are you?"

"I'm fine thank you, Professor" Emma smiled. "I'll just be taking some notes every now and then. And I may ask a couple of questions if needed."

"That's fine by me" Slughorn beamed. "You can take a seat next you Harry."

Emma smiled, thanked him, and went and sat down next to Harry.

"Now then, now then, now then" said Slughorn, whose massive outline was quivering through the many shimmering vapours. "Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of _Advanced Potion-Making..."_

"Sir?" said Harry, raising his hand/

"Harry, m'boy?"

"I haven't got a book of scales or anything- nor has Ron- we didn't realise we'd be able to do the N.E.W.T, you see..."

"Ah yes, Professor McGonagall did mention...not to worry, my dear boy, not to worry at all. You can use ingredients from the store cupboard today, and I'm sure we can lend you some scales, and we've got a small stock of old books here, they'll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts..."

Slughorn strode over to a corner cupboard and after a moment's foraging emerged with two very battered-looking copies of _Advanced Potion-Making _by Libatius Borage, which he gave to Harry and Ron along with two sets of tarnished scales.

"Now then" said Slughorn, returning to the front of the class and inflating his already bulging chest, so that the buttons on his waistcoat threatened to burst off "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.. You ought to have heard of them, even if you haven't made them yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?"

He indicated the cauldron nearest the Slytherin table. Harry raised himself slightly in his seat and saw what looked like plain water boiling away inside it.

Hermione's well-practised hand hit the air before anybody else's; Slughorn pointed at her.

"It's Veritaserm, a colourless, odourless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth" said Hermione.

"Very good, very good!" said Slughorn happily. "Now" he continued, pointing at the cauldron nearest the nearest the Ravenclaw table "this one here is pretty well-known...featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately, too...who can...?"

Hermione's hand was the fastest once more.

"It's Polyjuice Potion, sir" she said.

Harry, too, had recognised the slow-bubbling, mud-like substance in the second cauldron, but did not resent Hermione getting the credit for answering the question; she, after all, was the one who had succeeded in making it, back in their second year.

"Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here...yes, my dear?" said Slughorn, now looking slightly bemused as Hermione's hand punched the air again.

"It's Amortentia!"

"It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask" said Slughorn who was looking mightily impressed "but I assume you know what it does?"

"It is the most powerful love potion in the world!" said Hermione.

"Quite right! You recognised it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"

"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals" said Hermione enthusiastically.

"May I ask your name, my dear?" said Slughorn.

"Hermione Granger, sir."

"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"

"No, I don't think so, sir. I'm Muggle-born, you see."

Emma and Harry saw Malfoy lean close to Nott and whisper something; both of them sniggered, but Slughorn showed no dismay; on the contrary, he beamed and looked from Hermione to Harry to Emma.

"Oho! 'One of my best friends is Muggle-born and she's the best in our year!" I'm assuming this is the very friend of who you two spoke of."

"Yes sir" Harry and Emma chorused.

"Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger" said Slughorn genially.

Malfoy looked rather as he had done the time Hermione had punch him in the face. Hermione turned to Harry and Emma with a radiant expression and whispered "Did you really tell him I'm the best in the year?"

"Well, what's so impressive about that?" whispered Ron who for some reason looked annoyed. "You are the best in the year- I would have told him so if he had asked me!"

Hermione smiled but made a shushing gesture, so that they could hear what Slughorn was saying. Ron looked slightly disgruntled.

"Someone's jealous" Emma whispered in Harry's ear in a sing-song voice who smiled. Emma put her hand up and said "That will be all, professor."

"Okay Emma, see you around" Slughorn smiled warmly at her and she left the classroom without another word.

At dinner, Harry told Hermione, Emma and Ron about the book he had been given in Potion class. Hermione's face became stonier with every word he uttered.

"I suppose you think I cheated?" he finished, aggravated by her expression.

"Well, it wasn't exactly your own work, was it?" she said stiffly.

Harry saw Emma massaging her forehead and asked "Are you okay, Em?"

"I'm trying to decide" she said slowly "whether I should tell you everything about that stupid book and its previous owner and break the laws of not messing with time or if I should leave it be."

"How about a bit of both" Harry suggested.

"All I'm going to tell you is this" Emma said finally after a short pause "is that the person who wrote in that book is a good man, but also very bad and was a Death Eater. Be careful."

"Hang on" said a voice close to Harry's left ear and he caught a sudden waft of that flowery smell he had picked up in Slughorn's dudgeon. He looked round and saw that Ginny had joined them. "Did I hear right? You've been taking orders from something someone wrote in a book, Harry?"

She looked alarmed and angry. Harry knew what was on her mind at once.

"It's nothing" he said reassuringly, lowering his voice. "It's not like, you know, Riddle's diary. It's just an old textbook someone's scribbled in."

"I keeping an eye open" Emma reassured her. "I've always wondered where that book had gone to; seen as it is the property of the Half-Blood Prince."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The House of Gaunt

For the rest of the week's Potions lessons Harry continued to follow the Half-Blood Prince's instructions wherever they deviated from Libatius Borage's, with the result that by their fourth lesson Slughorn was raving about Harry's abilities, saying that he had rarely taught anyone so talented other than Emma. Neither Ron nor Hermione nor Emma was delighted by this. Although Harry had offered to share his book with Hermione and Ron, Ron had more difficulty deciphering the handwriting than Harry did, and could not keep asking Harry to read aloud or might look suspicious. Hermione, meanwhile, was resolutely ploughing on with what she called the 'official' instructions, but becoming increasingly bad-tempered as they yielded poorer results than the Prince's. Emma, on the other hand, was worried because she thought the Half-Blood Prince was bad even though Harry tried to convince her otherwise.

Harry wondered vaguely who the Half-Blood Prince had been- and Emma certainly was NOT telling him. Although the amount of homework they had been given prevented him from reading the whole of his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making, _he had skimmed through it sufficiently to see that there was barely a page on which the Prince had not made additional notes, not all of them concerned with potion-making. Here and there were directions for what looked like spells that the Prince had made up himself.

"Or herself" said Hermione irritably, overhearing Harry pointing some of these out to Ron and Emma in the common room on Saturday evening. "It might have been a girl. I think the handwriting looks more like a girl's than a boy's."

"The Half-Blood Prince, he was called" Harry said. "How many girls have been princes?"

Hermione seemed to have no answer to this. She merely scowled and twitched her essay on 'The Principles of Re-Materialisation' away from Ron, who was trying to read it upside-down.

Emma looked at her watch and hurriedly tapped Harry on the shoulder, pointing at her watch. Harry put the old copy of _Advanced Potion-Making _back into his bag.

"Its five to eight, we'd better go or we'll be late for Dumbledore" Emma explained.

"Ooooh!" gasped Hermione, looking up at once. "Good luck! We'll wait up; we want to hear what he teaches you!"

"Hope it goes okay" said Ron, and the pair of them watched Harry and Emma leave through the portrait hole.

Harry and Emma proceeded through deserted corridors, though they had to step hastily behind a statue when Professor Trelawney appeared round a corner, muttering to herself as she shuffled a pack if dirty-looking playing cards, reading them as she walked.

"Two of spades: conflict" she murmured, as she passed the place where Harry and Emma crouched, hidden. "Seven of spades: an ill omen. Ten of spades: violence. Knave of spades: a dark young man, possible troubled, one who dislikes the questioner..."

She stopped dead, right on the other side of their statue.

"Well, that can't be right" she said, annoyed, and they heard her reshuffling vigorously as she set off again, leaving nothing but a whiff of cooking sherry behind her. They waited until they were quite sure she had gone, and then hurried off again until their reached the spot in the seventh-floor corridor where a single gargoyle stood against the wall.

"Acid Pops" said Emma.

"And good afternoon to you too, Emma" said the gargoyle and he leapt aside; the wall behind it slid apart, and a moving spiral stone staircase was revealed, on to which Harry and Emma stepped- after Emma had said 'good afternoon' and 'thank you' to the gargoyle of course- so that they were carried in smooth circles up to the door with the brass knocker that led to Dumbledore's office.

Harry knocked.

"Come in" said Dumbledore's voice.

"Good evening, sir" Emma and Harry said together, walking into the Headmaster's office.

"Ah, good evening you two. Sit down" said Dumbledore, smiling. "I hope you've had an enjoyable first back at school?"

"It's certainly has be eventful" Emma grinned.

"You must have been busy, s detention under your belt already!"

"Err..." began Harry awkwardly, but Dumbledore did not look too stern.

"I have arranged with Professor Snape that you will do your detention next Saturday instead."

"Right" said Harry, who had more pressing matters on his mind than Snape's detention, and now looked around surreptitiously for some indication of what Dumbledore was planning to do with him that evening. The circular office looked just as it always did: the delicate silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, puffing smoke and whirring; portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses dozed in their frames; and Dumbledore's magnificent phoenix, Fawkes, stood on his perch behind the door, watching Harry and Emma with bright interest. It did not even look as though Dumbledore had cleared a space for duelling practice.

"So" said Dumbledore, in a businesslike voice. "You have been wondering, I am sure, what I have planned for you during these- for want of better world- lessons? And I presume Emma has not told you anything about it."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I have decided that it is time, now that you know what prompted Lord Voldemort to try and kill you both fifteen years ago, for you to be given certain information."

There was a pause.

"You said, at the end of last term, you were going to tell us everything" said Harry. It was hard to keep a note of accusation from his voice. "Sir" he added.

"And so I did" said Dumbledore placidly. "I told you everything I know. From this point forth, we shall be leaving the firm foundation of fact and journey together through the murky marches of memory into thickets of wildest wrong work. From here on in I may be as woefully wrong as Humphrey Belcher, who believed the time was ripe for a cheese cauldron."

"I knew I had to keep that poetry book out of your reach" Emma mumbled.

"But you think you're right?" said Harry.

"Naturally I do, but as I have already proven to you, I make mistakes like the next man. In fact, being- forgive me- rather cleaver than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly hunger."

"Sir" said Harry tentatively "does what you're going to tell us have anything to do with the prophecy? Will it help me and Emma...survive?"

"It has a very great deal to do with the prophecy" said Emma, as casually as if Harry had asked them about the next day's weather "and I certainly hope that it will help us to survive."

Dumbledore got to his feet and walked around the desk, past Harry and Emma, who turned in their seats to watch Dumbledore bending over the cabinet beside the door. When Dumbledore straightened up, he was holding a familiar shallow stone basin etched with odd markings around the rim. He pleased the Pensieve on the desk in front of them.

"You both look worried."

Both Harry and Emma had indeed been eyeing the Pensieve with some apprehension. Their previous experiences with the odd device that stored and revealed thoughts and memories, though highly instructive, had also been uncomfortable. The last time they had disturbed its contents, they had seen much more than they would have wished. But Dumbledore was smiling.

"This time, you enter the Pensieve with me... and, even more unusually, with permission."

"Where are we going, Sir?" Harry asked.

"For a trip down Bob Ogden's memory lane" said Dumbledore, pulling form his pocket a crystal bottle containing a swirling silvery-white substance they recognised as a memory.

"Who was Bob Ogden?" Emma asked because she had only been told what they would be doing.

"He was employed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement" said Dumbledore. "He died some time ago, but not before I had tracked him down and persuaded him to confide these recollections to me. We are about to accompany him on a visit he made in the course of his duties. If you will stand..."

But Dumbledore was having difficulty pulling out the stopper of the crystal bottle: his injured hand seemed stiff and painful.

"Shall I, sir?" Emma asked.

"No matter, Emma..."

Dumbledore pointed his wand at the bottle and the cork flew out.

"Sir- how did you injure your hand?" Harry asked again, looking at the blackened with a mixture of revulsion and pity.

"Now is not the moment for that story, Harry. Not yet. We have an appointment with Bob Ogden."

Harry looked at Emma who shook her head, letting him know that she didn't know herself.

Dumbledore tipped the silvery contents of the bottle into the Pensieve, where they swirled and shimmered, neither liquid nor gas.

"After you" said Dumbledore, gesturing towards the bowl.

Emma and Harry exchanged a glance before Emma bent forwards, took a deep breath, and plunged her face into the silvery substance. She felt her feet leave the office floor; she was falling, falling through whirling darkness and then, quite suddenly, she was blinking in dazzling sunlight. Before her eyes had adjusted, Dumbledore and Harry landed either side of her.

They were standing in a country lane bordered by high, tangled hedgerows, beneath a summer sky as bright and blue as a forget-me-not. Some ten feet in front of them stood a short, plump man wearing enormously thick glasses that reduced his eyes to mole like specks. He was reading a wooden signpost that was sticking out of the brambles on the left-hand side of the road. Harry and Emma knew this must be Ogden; he was the only person in sight, and he was also wearing the strange assortment of cloths so often chosen by inexperienced wizards trying to look leek Muggles: in this case, a frock-coat and spats over a striped one-piece bathing costume. Before they had time to do more than register his bizarre appearance, however, Ogden had set off at a brisk walk down the lane.

Dumbledore, Harry and Emma followed. As they passed the wooden sign, Harry and Emma looked up at its two arms. The one pointing back the way they had come read: 'Great Hangleton, 5 miles'. The arm pointing after Ogden said: 'Little Hangleton, 1 mile'.

They walked a short way with nothing to see but the hedgerows, the wide blue sky overhead and the swishing, frock-coated figure ahead, then the lane curved to the left and fell away, sloping steeply down a hillside, so that they had a sudden, unexpected two steep hills, its church and graveyard clearly visible. Across the valley, set on the opposite hillside, was a handsome manor house surrounded by a wide expanse of velvety green lawn.

Ogden had broken into a reluctant trot die to the steep downward slope. Dumbledore lengthened his stride and Harry and Emma hurried to keep up. They thought Little Hangleton must be their final destination and wondered; as they had done on the night they had found Slughorn, why they had to approach if from such a distance. They soon discovered that they were mistaken in thinkin that they were going to the village, however. The lane curved to the right, and when they rounded the corner, it was to see the very edge of Ogden's frock-coat vanishing through a gap in the hedge.

They followed him on to a narrow dirt track bordered by higher and wilder hedgerows than those they had left behind. The path was crooked, rocky and potholed, sloping downhill like the last one, and it seemed to be heading for a patch of dark trees a little below them. Sure enough, the track soon opened up at the copse, and Dumbledore, Harry and Emma came to a halt behind Ogden, who had stopped and drawn his wand.

Despite the cloudless sky, the old trees ahead cast deep, dark, cool shadows and it was a few seconds before Harry and Emma's eyes discerned the building half-hidden amongst the tangle of trunks. It seemed to them a very strange location to choose for a house, or else an odd decision to leave the trees growing nearby, blocking all light and the view of the valley below. They wondered whether it was inhabited; its walls were mossy and so many tiles had fallen off the roof that the rafters were visible in places. Nettles grew all around it, their tips reaching the windows, which were tiny and thick with grime. Just as they had concluded that nobody could possible live there, however, one of the windows was thrown open with a clatter and a thin trickle of steam or smoke issued from it, as though somebody was cooking.

Ogden moved forwards quietly and, it seemed to Harry and Emma, rather cautiously. As the dark shadows of the trees slid over him, he stopped again, staring at the front door, to which somebody had nailed a dead snake. Emma shuddered.

Then there was a rustle and a crack and a man in rags dropped from the nearest tree, landing on his feet right in front of Ogden, who leapt backwards so fast that he stood on the tails of his frock-coat and stumbled.

"_You're not welcome."_

The man standing before them had thick hair so matted with dirt it could have been any colour. Several of his teeth were missing. His eyes were small and dark and stared in opposite directions. He might have looked comical, but he did not; the effect was frightening, and Harry and Emma couldn't blame Ogden for backing away several more paces before he spoke.

"Err...good morning. I'm from the Ministry of Magic..."

"_You're not welcome."_

"Err...I'm sorry...I don't understand you" said Ogden nervously.

Harry and Emma thought Ogden was being extremely dim; the stranger was making himself perfectly clear in their opinion, particularly as he was brandishing a wand in one hand and a short and rather bloody knife in the other.

"You two understand him, I'm sure" said Dumbledore quietly.

"Yes, of course" said Emma, slightly nonplussed. "Why can't Ogden...?"

But as her eyes found the dead snake on the door again, she suddenly understood.

"He's speaking Parseltongue?" she realised with a gasp.

"Very good" said Dumbledore, nodding and smiling.

The man is rags was now advancing on Ogden, knife in one hand, wand in the other.

"Now, look..." Ogden began, but too late: there was a bang, and Ogden was on the ground, clutching his nose, while a nasty yellowish good squirted from between his fingers.

"Morfin!" said a loud voice.

An elderly man had come hurrying out of the cottage, banging the door behind him so that the dead snake swung pathetically. This man was shorter than the first, and oddly proportioned; his shoulders were very broad and his arms overlong, which, with his bright brown eyes, short scrubby hair and wrinkled face, gave him the look of a powerful, aged monkey. He came to a halt beside the man with the knife, who was now cackling with laughter at the sight of Ogden on the ground.

"Ministry is it?" said the older man, looking down at Ogden.

"Correct!" said Ogden angrily, dabbing his face. "And you, I take it, are Mr Gaunt?"

"That's right" said Gaunt. "Got you in the face, did he?"

"Yes he did!" snapped Ogden.

"Should've made your presence known, shouldn't you?" said Gaunt aggressively. "This is private property. You can't just walk in here and not expect my son to defend himself."

"Defend himself against what, man?" said Ogden, clambering back to his feet.

"Busybodies. Intruders. Muggles and filth."

Ogden pointed his wand at his own nose, which was still issuing large amounts of what looked like yellow pus, and the flow stopped at once. Mr Gaunt spoke out of the corner of his mouth to Morfin.

"_Get in the house. Don't argue."_

This time, ready for it, Harry and Emma recognised Parseltongue; even while they could understand what was being said; they distinguished the weird hissing noise that was all Ogden could hear. Morfin seemed to be on the point of disagreeing, but when his father cast him a threatening look he changed his mind, lumbering away to the cottage with an odd rolling gait and slamming the front door behind him, so that the snake swung sadly again.

"That is sick" Emma muttered to herself, her eyes on the snake.

"It's your son I'm here to see, Mr Gaunt" said Ogden, as he mopped the last of the pus from the front of his coat. "That was Morfin, wasn't it?"

"Ar, that was Morfin" said the old man indifferently. "Are you pure-blood?" he asked, suddenly aggressive.

"That's neither here nor there" said Ogden coldly, and Harry and Emma felt their respect for Ogden rise.

Apparently Gaunt felt rather differently. He squinted into Ogden's face and muttered, in what was clearly supposed to be an offensive tone "Now I come to think about it, I've seen noses like yours down in the village."

"I don't doubt it, if your son's been let loose on them" said Ogden. "Perhaps we could continue this discussion inside?"

"Inside?"

"Yes, Mr Gaunt. I've already told you. I'm here about Morfin. We sent an owl..."

"I've no use for owls" said Gaunt. "I don't open letters.

"Then you can hardly complain that you get no warnings of visitors" said Ogden tartly. "I am here following a serious breach of Wizarding law which occurred here in the early hours of this morning..."

"All right, all right, all right!" bellowed Gaunt. "Come in the bleeding house, then, and much good it'll do you!"

The house seemed to contain three tiny rooms. Two doors left odd the main room, which served as kitchen and living room, combined. Morfin was sitting in a filthy armchair beside the smoking fire, twisting a live adder between his thick fingers and crooning softly at it in Parseltongue:

_Hissy, hissy, little snakey,_

_Slither on the floor,_

_You be good to Morfin_

_Or he'll nail you to the door_

There was a scuffling noise in the corner beside the open window and Harry and Emma realised that there was somebody else in the room, a girl whose ragged grey dress was the exact colour of the dirty stone wall behind her. She was standing beside a steaming pot on a grimy black stove, and was fiddling around with the shelf of squalid-looking pots and pans above it. Her hair was lank and dull and she had plain, pale, rather heavy face. Her eyes, like her brother's, stared in opposite directions. She looked a little cleaner than the two men, but Emma thought she had never seen a more defeated-looking person.

"M'daughter, Merope" said Gaunt grudgingly, as Ogden looked enquiringly towards her.

"Good morning" said Ogden.

She did not answer, but with a frightened glance at her father turned her back on the room and continued shifting the pots on the shelf behind her.

"Well, Nr Gaunt" said Ogden "to get straight to the point, we have reason to believe that your son Morfin performed magic in front of a Muggle late last night."

There was a deafening _clang_. Merope had dropped one of the pots.

"Mr Gaunt, please!" said Ogden in a shocked voice, as Merope, who had already picked up the pot, flushed blotchily scarlet, lost her grip on the pot again, drew her wand shakily from her pocket, pointed it at the pot and muttered a hasty, inaudible spell that cause the pot to shoot across the floor away from, hit the opposite wall and crack in two.

Morfin let out a mad cackle of laughter. Gaunt screamed "Mend it, you pointless lump, mend it!"

"That barstered" Emma whispered, looking horrified.

Merope stumbled across the room, but before she had time to raise her wand, Ogden had lifted his own and said firmly "Reparo." The pot mended itself instantly.

Gaunt looked for a moment as though he was going to shout at Ogden, but seemed to think better of it: instead he jeered at his daughter. "Lucky the nice man form the Ministry's here, isn't it? Perhaps he'll take you off my hands; perhaps he doesn't mind dirty Squibs..."

Without looking at anybody or thanking Ogden, Merope picked up the pot and returned it, hands trembling, to its shelf. She then stood quite still, her back against the wall between the filthy window and the stove, as though she wished for nothing more than to sink into the stone and vanish.

"Mr Gaunt" Ogden began again "as I've said: the reason for my visit..."

"I hear you the first time!" snapped Gaunt. "And so what? Morfin gave a Muggle a bit of what was coming to him- what about it, then?"

"Morfin has broken the Wizarding law" said Ogden sternly.

"_Morfin has broken the Wizarding law_" Gaunt imitated Ogden's voice, making it pompous and singsong. Morfin cackled again. "He taught a filthy Muggle a lesson, that's illegal now, is it?"

"Yes" said Ogden. "I'm afraid it is."

He pulled from an inside pocket a small scroll of parchment and unrolled it.

"What is that, then, his sentence?" said Gaunt, his voice rising angrily.

"It is a summons to the Ministry for a hearing..."

"Summons! Summons? Who do you think you are, summoning my son anywhere?"

"I'm Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad" said Ogden.

"And you think we're scum, do you?" screamed Gaunt, advancing on Ogden now, with a dirty yellow-nailed finer pointing at his chest. "Scum who'll come running when the Ministry tells 'em to? Do you know who you're talking to, you filthy little Mudblood, do you?"

"I was under the impression that I was speaking to Mr Gaunt" said Ogden, looking wary, but standing his ground.

"That's right!" roared Gaunt. For a moment, Harry and Emma thought Gaunt was making an obscene hand gesture, but then they realised that he was showing Ogden the ugly, black-stoned ring he was wearing on his middle finger, waving it before Ogden's eyes. "See this? See this? Know what it is? Know where it came from? Centuries it's been in our family, that's how far back we go, and pure-blood all the way! Know how much I've been offered fir this, with the Peverell coat of arms engraved on the stone?"

"I have really no idea" said Ogden, blinking as the ring sailed within an inch of his nose "and it's quite beside the point, Mr Gaunt. Your son has committed..."

With a howl of rage, Gaunt ran towards his daughter. For a split second, Harry and Emma thought he was going to throttle her as his hand flew to her throat; next moment, he was dragging her towards Ogden by a gold chain around her neck.

"See this?" he bellowed at Ogden, shaking a heavy gold locket at him, while Merope spluttered and gasped for breath.

"I see it, I see it" said Ogden hastily.

"Slytherin's!" yelled Gaunt. "Salazar Slytherin's! We're his last living descendants, what do you say to that, eh?"

"Mr Gaunt, your daughter!" said Ogden in alarm, but Gaunt had already released Merope; she staggered away from him, back to her corner, massaging her neck and gulping for air. Emma let out a breath she did not know she was holding.

"So!" said Gant triumphantly, as though he had just proved a complicated point beyond all possible dispute. "Don't you go talking to us as if we are dirt on your shoes! Generations of pure-bloods, wizards all- more than you can sat, I don't doubt!"

And he spat on the floor at Ogden's feet. Morfin cackled again. Merope, huddled beside the window, her head bowed and her face hidden by her lank hair, said nothing.

"Mr Gaunt" said Ogden doggedly "I am afraid that neither your ancestors nor mine have anything to do with the matter in hand. I am here because of Morfin, Morfin and the Muggle he accosted late last night. Our information" he glanced down at his scroll of parchment "is that Morfin performed a jinx or hex on the said Muggle, causing him to erupt in highly painful hives."

Morfin giggled.

"_Be quiet boy" _snarled Gaunt in Parseltongue, and Morfin fell silent again.

"And so what if he did, then" Gaunt said defiantly to Ogden. "I expect you've wiped the Muggle's filthy face clean for him and his memory to boot..."

"That's hardly the point, is it, Mr Gaunt?" said Ogden. "This was an unprovoked attack on a defenceless..."

"Ar, I had you marked out as a Muggle-lover the moment I saw you" sneered Gaunt and he spat on the floor again.

"This discussion is getting us nowhere" said Ogden firmly. "It is clear from your son's attitude he feels no remorse for his actions." He glanced down at his scroll of parchment again. "Morfin will attend a hearing on the fourteenth of September to answer the charges of using magic in front of a Muggle and causing harm and distress to that same Muggle..."

Ogden broke off. The jingling, clopping sounds of horses and loud, laughing voices were drifting in through the open window. Apparently the winding lane to the village passed very close to the copse where the house stood. Gaunt froze, listening, his eyes wide. Morfin hissed and turned his face towards the sounds, his expression hungry. Merope raised he head. He face was starkly white.

"My God, what an eyesore!" rang out a girl's voice, as clearly audible through the open window as if she had stood in the room beside them. "Couldn't you father have that hovel cleared away, Tom?"

"It's not ours" said a young man's voice. "Everything on the other side of the valley belongs to us, but that cottage belongs to an old tramp called Gaunt and his children. The son's quite mad, you should hear some of the stories they tell in the village..."

The girl laughed. The jingling, clopping noises were growing louder and louder. Morfin made to get out of his armchair.

"_Keep your seat" _said his father warningly, in Parseltongue.

"Tom" said the girl's voice again, now so close they were clearly right beside the house "I might be wrong- but had somebody nailed a snake to that door?"

"Good Lord, you're right!" said the man's voice. "That'll be the son; I told you he's not right in the head. Don't look at it, Cecilia, darling."

The jingling and clopping sounds were now growing fainter again.

"_Darling" _whispered Morfin in Parseltongue, looking at his sister. "_Darling, he called her. So he wouldn't have you anyway."_

Merope was so white Harry and Emma felt sure she was going to faint.

"_What's that?" _said Gaunt sharply, also in Parseltongue, looking from his son to his daughter. _"What did you say, Morfin?"_

"_She likes looking at that Muggle" _said Morfin, a vicious expression on his face as he stared at his sister, who now looked terrified. _"Always in the garden when he passes, peering through the hedge at him, isn't she? And last night..."_

Merope shook her head jerkily, imploringly, but Morfin went on ruthlessly _"Hanging out of the window waiting for him to ride home wasn't she?"_

"_Hanging out of the window to look at a Muggle?" _said Gaunt quietly.

All three of the Gaunts seemed to have forgotten Ogden, who was looking both bewildered and irritated at this renewed outbreak of incomprehensible hissing and rasping.

"_Is it true?" _said Gaunt in a deadly voice, advancing a step or two towards the terrified girl. "_My daughter- pure-blooded descendant of Salazar Slytherin- hankering after a filthy, dirt-veined Muggle?"_

Merope shook her head frantically, pressing herself into the wall, apparently unable to speak.

"_But I got him, Father!" _cackled Morfin. _"I got him as he went by, and he didn't look so pretty with hives all over him, did he, Merope?"_

"_You disgusting little Squib, you filthy little blood traitor!" _roared Gaunt, losing control, and his hands closed around his daughter's throat.

Harry, Emma and Ogden yelled "No!" at the same time; Ogden raised his wand and cried "_Relashio_!" Gaunt was thrown backwards, away from his daughter; he tripped over a chair and fell flat on his back.

"Serves him right" Emma muttered, glaring at Gaunt.

With a roar of rage, Morfin leapt out of his chair and ran at Ogden, brandishing his bloody knife and firing hexes indiscriminately from his wand.

Ogden ran for his life. Dumbledore indicated that they ought to follow and Harry and Emma obeyed, Merope's screams echoing in their ears.

Ogden hurtled up the path and erupted on to the main lane, his arms over his head, where he collided with the glossy chestnut horse ridden by a very handsome, dark-haired young man. Both he and the pretty girl riding beside him on a grey horse roared with laughter at the sight of Ogden, who bounced off the horse's flank and set off again, his frock-coat flying, covered from head to foot in dust, running pell-mell up the lane.

"I think that will do, you two" said Dumbledore. He took Harry and Emma by the elbows and tugged. Next moment, they were all soaring weightlessly through darkness, until they landed squarely on their feet, back in Dumbledore's now twilit office.

"What happened to Merope" Emma asked worriedly at once, as Dumbledore lit extra lamps with a flick of his wand.

"Oh, she survived" Dumbledore reassured her, reseating himself behind his desk and indicating that Harry and Emma should sit down too. "Ogden Apparated back to the Ministry and returned with reinforcements within fifteen minutes. Morfin and his father attempted to fight, but both were overpowered, removed from the cottage and subsequently convicted by the Wizengamot. Morfin, who already had a record of Muggle attacks, was sentenced to three years in Azkaban. Marvolo, who had injured several Ministry employees in addition to Ogden, received six months."

"Marvolo?" Harry and Emma repeated together wonderingly.

"That's right" said Dumbledore, smiling in approval. "I am glad to see you two are keeping up."

"That old man was...?" Harry began.

"Voldemort's grandfather, yes" said Dumbledore. "Marvolo, his son Morfin and his daughter Merope were the last of the Gaunts, a very ancient Wizarding family noted for a vein of instability and violence that flourished through the generations due to their habit of marrying their own cousins. Lack of sense coupled with a great liking for grandeur meant that the family gold was squandered several generations before Marvolo was born. He, as you saw, was left in squalor and poverty, with a very nasty temper, a fantastic amount of arrogance just as much as his son, and rather more than his daughter."

"So Merope" said Emma, leaning forwards in her chair and staring at Dumbledore "so Merope was _Voldemort's mother_?"

"It does" said Dumbledore. "And it so happens that we also had a glimpse of Voldemort's father. I wonder whether you noticed."

"The Muggle Morfin attacked" Emma realised.

"Very good indeed" said Dumbledore, beaming. "Yes, that was Tom Riddle Senior, the handsome Muggle who used to go riding past the Gaunt cottage and for whom Merope Gaunt cherished a secret, burning passion."

"And they ended up married?" Harry said in disbelief, unable to imagine two people less likely to fall in love.

"I think" Emma said slowly "that, being a witch, she managed to make Tom love her, or at least think he loved her."

"Correct" said Dumbledore "I do not believe that her magical powers appeared to their best advantage when she was being terrorised by her father. Once Marvolo and Morfin were safely in Azkaban, once she was alone and free for the first time in her life, then, I am sure, she was able to give full rein to her abilities and to plot her escape from the desperate life she had led for eighteen years.

"Can you not think of any measure Merope could have taken to make Tom Riddle forget his Muggle companion, and fall in love with her instead?"

"The Imperius Curse?" Harry suggested.

"Or a love potions?" Emma added.

"Very good. Personally, I am inclined to think that she used a love potion. I am sure it would have seemed more romantic to her and I do not think it would have seemed more romantic to her and I do not think it would have been very difficult, some hot day, when Riddle was riding alone, to persuade him to take a drink of water. In any case, within a few months of the scene we have just witnessed, the village of Little Hangleton enjoyed a tremendous scandal. You can imagine the gossip it caused when the squire's son ran off with the tramp's daughter Merope.

"But the villagers' shock was nothing to Marvolo's. He returned from Azkaban, expecting to find his daughter dutifully awaiting his return with a hot meal ready on his table. Instead, he found a clear inch of dust and her note of farewell, explaining what she had done.

"From all that I have been able to discover, he never mentioned her name or existence form that time forth. The shock of her desertion may have contributed to his early death- or perhaps he had simply never learned to feed himself. Azkaban had greatly weakened Marvolo and he did not live to see Morfin return to the cottage."

"And Merope? She...she died, didn't she? Wasn't Voldemort brought up in an orphanage?" Emma said.

"Yes, indeed" said Dumbledore. "We must do a certain amount of guessing here, although I do not think it is difficult to deduce what happened. You see, within a few months of their runaway marriage, Tom Riddle reappeared at the manor house in Little Hangleton without his wide."

The sky outside was inky black and the lamps in Dumbledore's office seemed to glow more brightly than before.

"I think that will do for tonight" said Dumbledore after a moment or two.

"Yes, sir" Harry and Emma chorused.

They turned to go, then a question occurred to Emma, and she turned back round.

"Sir, are we allowed to tell Ron and Hermione everything you have told us?"

Dumbledore considered her for a moment, and then said "Yes, I think Mr Weasley and Miss Ganger have proved themselves trustworthy. But I am going to ask you two to ask them not to repeat any of this to anybody else. It would not be a good idea if word got aroun dhow much I know, or suspect, about Lord Voldemort's secrets."

"No, sir, we'll make sure it's just Ron and Hermione. Goodnight" Emma smiled.

She and Harry left Dumbledore's office, but not before Emma noticed an ugly gold ring set with a large, cracked black stone sitting on one of the little spindle-legged tables that supported so many frail-looking silver instruments.

**AN: I just wanted to know if anyone had any ideas on fights Emma and George could have. You see, I didn't want them looking like the perfect couple through and through that never had fights, but I can't think of any. Thanks for all your help. And I wouldn't mind a review or two either :)**

**Thank you**

**~9PoisonIvy9**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Emma and Hermione's Helping Hand

As Hermione and Emma had predicted, the sixth-years' free periods were not the hours of blissful relaxation Ron had anticipated, but times in which to attempt to keep up with the vast amount of homework they were bing set. Not only were they studying as though they had exams every day, but the lesson themselves had become more demanding than ever before. Harry barely understood half of what Professor McGonagall said to them these days; even Hermione had to ask her to repeat instructions once for twice. Incredibly, and to Hermione's increasing resentment, Harry's best subject had suddenly become Potions, thanks to the Half-Blood Prince.

One result of their enormous workload and the frantic hours of practising non-verbal spells was that Harry, Emma, Ron and Hermione had so far been unable to find time to go and visit Hagrid. They had told Emma to go herself but she flat out refused and said she wasn't going to do it alone. And so he had stopped coming to meals at the staff table, an ominous sign, and on the few occasions when they had passed him in the corridors or out in the grounds, he had mysteriously failed to notice them or hear their greetings.

"We've got to go and explain together" said Emma, looking up at Hagrid's huge empty chair at the staff table the following Saturday at breakfast.

"We've got Quidditch tryouts this morning!" said Ron. "And we're supposed to be practising that _Aguamenti _charm for Flitwick! Anyway, explain what? How are we going to tell him we hated his stupid subject?"

"We didn't hate it!" said Hermione.

"Speak for yourself, I haven't forgotten the Skrewts" said Ron darkly. "And I'm telling you now; we've had a narrow escape. You didn't hear him going on about his gormless brother- we would have been teaching Grawp how to tie his shoelaces if we had stayed."

"I hate not talking to Hagrid" said Emma, looking upset- which was a bit of a shock seen as she rarely ever showed negative emotions.

"We'll go down after Quidditch" Harry assured her. He, too, was missing Hagrid, although like Ron he thought that they were better off without Grawp in their lived. "But trials might take all morning, the number of people who have applied." He felt slightly nervous at confronting the first hurdle of his captaincy and was glad that Emma had been told to assist him. "I dunno why the team's this popular all of a sudden."

"Oh, come on, Harry" Emma said, suddenly impatient.

"It's not Quidditch that's popular" Hermione said, just as impatient "it's you and Emma. You two have never been more interesting and, frankly, you two have never been more fanciable."

Ron gagged on a large piece of kipper. Hermione spared him one look of disdain before turning back to Harry.

"Everyone knows you two have been telling the truth now, don't they? The whole Wizarding world has had to admit that you two were right about Voldemort being back and that you really have fought him in the last two years and escaped both times. And now they're calling you the 'Chosen Ones'- well, come on, can't you see why people are fascinated by the both of you?"

Emma was now blushing feverously and had hidden her face behind her curtain of hair, and Harry was finding the Great Hall very hot all of a sudden, even though the ceiling still looked cold and rainy.

"And you two have been through all that persecution from the Ministry when they were trying to make out you two were unstable and liars. You can still see the marks on Harry where that evil woman made you write with your own blood, and the marks on Emma's leg where she was whipped, but you two stick to your story anyway..."

"You can still see where those brains got hold of me in the Ministry, look" said Ron, shaking back his sleeves.

"And it doesn't hurt that Harry's grown about a foot over the summer and Emma looking cute as she so small, either" Hermione finished, ignoring Ron.

"I'm tall" said Ron inconsequentially.

The post owls arrived, swooping down through rain-flecked windows, scattering everyone with droplets of water. Emma was shocked when Fino- her Phoenix- came swooping with a letter. She quickly untied it, fed him some bacon, and read it as fast as she could.

"What is it?" asked Hermione.

"My world is getting ready" Emma replied, scribbling a letter back so fast her hand was almost invisible.

"For what?"

"For what's coming" Emma said, not really answering her question, as she retied the letter to Fino.

Harry had received no mail since the start of term; his only regular correspondent was now dead and although he had hoped that Lupin might write occasionally, he had so far been disappointed. He was very surprised, therefore, to see the snowy-white Hedwig circling amongst all the brown and grey owls. She landed in front of him carrying a large, square package. A moment later, an identical package landed in front of Ron, crushing beneath it his minuscule and exhausted owl, Pigwidgeon.

"Ha!" said Harry, unwrapping the parcel to reveal a new copy of _Advanced Potion-Making, _fresh from Flourish and Blotts.

"Oh good" said Hermione, delighted. "Now you can give that graffitied copy back."

"Are you mad?" said harry. "I'm keeping it! Look, I've thought it out..."

He pulled the old coop of _Advanced Potion-Making_ out of his bag and tapped the cover with his wand, muttering "_Diffindo_!" The cover fell off. He did the same thing with the brand new book (Hermione looked scandalised). He then swapped the covers, tapped each and said "_Reparo_!"

There sat the Prince's copy, disguised as a new book, and there sat the fresh copy from Flourish and Blotts, looking thoroughly second-hand.

"I'll give Slughorn back the new one. He can't complain; it cost nine Galleons."

Emma sighed, closing her eyes for the briefest of seconds before saying "Trust me, Harry; you are going to regret doing that."

Hermione pressed her lips together, looking angry and disapproving, but was distracted by a third owl landing in front of her carrying that day's copy of the _Daily Prophet_. She unfolded it hastily and scanned the front page.

"Anyone we know dead?" asked Ron in a determinedly casual voice; he posed the same question every time Hermione opened her paper.

"No, but there have been more Dementor attacks" said Hermione. "And an arrest."

"Excellent, who?" said Emma happily, thinking of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Stan Shunpike" said Hermione.

"Stan Shunpike" Emma said incredulously

"_Stan Shunpike, conductor on the popular Wizarding conveyance the Knight Bus, has been arrested on suspicion of Death Eater activity. Mr Shunpike, 21, was taken into custody late last night after a raid on his Clapham home..."_

"Nutters" said Emma, remembering the spotty youth she had first met six years before. "There is no way he's a Death Eater."

"He might have been put under the Imperius Curse" said Ron reasonably. "You never can tell."

"It doesn't look like it" said Hermione, who was still reading. "It says here he was arrested after he was overheard talking about the Death Eaters' secret plans in a pub." She looked up with a troubled expression on her face. "If he was under the Imperius Curse, he'd hardly stand around gossiping about their plans, would he?"

"He was probably trying to make out he knew more than he did" Emma said, rolling her eyes at the Ministry's stupidity.

"Isn't he the one who claimed he was going to become the youngest Minister for Magic when he was trying to chat up those Veela?" Ron said.

"Yeah, that's him" said Harry. "I don't know what they're playing at, taking Stan seriously."

"They probably want to look as though they're doing something" said Emma, now frowning. "People are terrified- you know the Patil twins' parents want them to go home? And Eloise Midgeon has already been withdrawn. Her father picked her up last night."

"What?" said Ron, goggling at Emma. "But Hogwarts is safer than their homes, bound to be! We're got Aurors, you, and all those extra protective spells, and we've got Dumbledore!"

"We haven't got him all the time" said Emma very quietly, glancing towards the staff table. "Haven't you noticed? His seat's been empty as often as Hagrid's this past week."

Harry, Ron and Hermione looked up at the staff table. The Headmaster's chair was indeed empty. Now Harry came to think of it, he had not seen Dumbledore since their private lesson a week ago.

"I think he's left the school to do something with the Order" said Hermione in a low voice. "I mean... it's all looking serious, isn't it?"

Harry, Ron and Emma did not answer, but Harry knew that they were all thinking the same thing. There had been a horrible incident the day before, when Hannah Abbott was taken out of Herbology by Emma to be told her mother had been found dead. They had not seen Hannah since.

When they left the Gryffindor table five minutes later to head down to the Quidditch pitch, they passed Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. Emma and Harry were unsurprised to see that the two best friends were whispering together, looking distressed. What did surprised Harry was that when Ron drew level with them, Parvati suddenly nudged Lavender, who looked round and gave Ron a wide smile. Ron blinked at her, and then returned the smile uncertainly. His walk instantly became something more like a strut. Harry and Emma resisted the temptation to laugh, remembering that Ron had refrained from doing so after Malfoy had broken Harry's nose; Hermione, however, looked cold and distant all the way down to the stadium through the cold, misty drizzle, and departed to find a place in the stands without wishing Ron good luck. Emma gave her a sympathetic look.

As Harry had expected, the trails looked most of the morning, even with Emma's help. Half of Gryffindor house seemed to have turned up, from first-years who were nervously clutching a selection of the dreadful old school brooms, to seventh-years who towered over the rest looking coolly intimidating. The latter included a large, wiry-haired boy Harry and Emma recognised immediately from the Hogwarts Express.

"We met on the train, in old Sluggy's compartment" he said confidently, stepping out of the crowd to shake Harry and Emma's hands. "Cormac McLaggen, Keeper."

"You didn't try out last year, did you?" asked Emma breezily, taking note of the breath of McLaggen and thinking that he would probably block all three goalhoops without even moving.

"I was in the hospital wing when they held the trials" said McLaggen, with something of a swagger and looking at Emma as though she was a piece of meat. "Ate a pound of Doxy eggs for a bet."

"Right" said Harry, anger rolling through him because of the way he was looking at Emma. "Well... if you wait over there..."

He pointed over to the edge of the pitch, close to where Hermione was sitting. Emma though she saw a flicker of annoyance pass over McLaggen's face and wondered whether McLaggen expected preferential treatment because the three of them were 'old Sluggy's' favourites.

Harry was about to start when Emma held out a hand.

"If there's anyone here who's not from Gryffindor" she shouted, trying to be heard of the crowd "leave now, please!"

There was a pause, then a couple of little Ravenclaws- Romilda Vance included- and five Hufflepuffs went sprinting off the pitch, snorting with laughter.

"Thanks" Harry sighed and started the trials.

After two hours, many complaints and several tantrums, one involving a crashed Comet Two Sixty and several broken teeth, Harry found himself three Chasers: Katie Bell, returned to the team after an excellent trial, Demelza Robin, who was particularly good dodging everything, and Ginny Weasley, who had outflown all the competition and scored seventeen goals to boot. Pleased though he was with his choices, Harry had also shouted himself hoarse till Emma threatened to hex the many complainers and was now enduring a similar battle with the rejected Beaters.

"That's his final decision and if you don't get out of the way for the Keepers I'll hex you" Emma shouted, using the same threat she had used on the Chasers.

Neither of Harry's chosen Beaters had the old brilliance of Fred and George, but he was still reasonably pleased with them: Jimmy Peakes, a short but broad-chested third-year who had managed to raise a lump the size of an egg on the back of Harry's head with a ferociously hit bludger on which Emma had to use some complicated spells to get rid of, and Ritchie Coote, who looked weedy bit aimed well. They now joined Katie, Demelza and Ginny in the stands to watch the selection of their last team member.

Harry had deliberately left the trial of the Keepers until last, hoping for an emptier stadium and less pressure on all concerned. Unfortunately, however, all the rejected players and a number of people who had come down to watch after a lengthy breakfast had joined the crowd by now, so that it was larger than ever. As each Keeper flew up to the goalhoops, the crowd roared and jeered in equal measure. Emma glanced over at Ron, who had always had a problem with nerves; Emma had hoped that winning their final match last term might have cured it, but apparently not: Ron was a delicate shade of green.

None of the first five applicants saved more than two goals apiece. To Harry and Emma's disappointment, Cormac McLaggen saved four penalties out of five. On the last one, however, he shot off in completely the wrong direction; the crowd laughed and booed and McLaggen returned to the ground grinding his teeth.

Ron looked ready to pass out as he mounted his Cleansweep Elven.

"Good luck!" cried a voice from the stands. Harry and Emma looked around, expecting to see Hermione, but it was Lavender Brown. They would have quite liked to have hidden his face in their hands, as she did a moment later, but Emma was a vampire who didn't show weakness and Harry though that as the Captain he ought to show slightly more grit, and so they turned to watch Ron do his trial.

Yet they need not have worried: Ron saved one, two, three, four, five penalties in a row. Delighted and resisting joining in the cheers of the crowd with difficulty, Harry and Emma turned to McLaggen to tell him that, most unfortunately, Ron had beaten him, only to find McLaggen's red face inches from their own. Harry stepped back hastily, but Emma stood her ground.

"His sister didn't really try" said McLaggen menacingly. There was a vein pulsing in his temple like the one Harry had often admired in Uncle Vernon's. "She gave him an easy save."

"Rubbish" said Emma coldly, her glare icy. "That was the one he nearly missed."

McLaggen took a step nearer Harry and Emma, who both stood their ground this time.

"Give me another go."

"No" said Emma. "You've had your go. You saved four. Ron saved five. Ron's Keep, he won it fair and Square. Now, get the hell out of our way."

She thought for a moment that McLaggen might punch her- and obviously Harry did too because he stepped forwards- but McLaggen contented himself with an ugly grimace and stormed away, growling what sounded like threats to thin air.

Harry and Emma turned around to find the new team beaming at them.

"Well done" Harry croaked. "You flew really well..."

"You did brilliantly, Ron!"

This time it really was Hermione running towards them from the stands; Harry and Emma saw Lavender walking off the pitch, arm in arm with Parvati, and a rather grumpy expression on her face. Ron looked extremely pleased with himself and even taller than usual as he grinned around at the team and at Hermione and Emma.

After fixing the time of their first full practice for the following Thursday, Harry, Emma, Ron and Hermione bade goodbye to the rest of the ream and headed off towards Hagrid's. A watery sun was trying to break through the clouds now and it had stopped drizzling at last.

"I thought I was going to miss that fourth penalty" Ron was saying happily. "Tricky shot from Demelza, did you see, had a bit of spin on it..."

"Yes, yes, you were magnificent" said Emma, both she and Hermione were looking highly amused.

"I was better than that McLaggen anyway" said Ron in a highly satisfied voice. "Did you see him lumbering off in the wrong direction on his fifth? Looked like he'd been Confunded..."

To Harry's surprised, Hermione turned a very deep shade of pink and Emma started to examine her nails as if they were highly interesting at these words. Ron noticed nothing; he was too busy describing each of his other penalties in loving detail.

The great grey Hippogriff, Buckbeak, was tethered in front of Hagrid's cabin. He clicked his razor-sharp beak at their approach and turned his huge head towards them.

"Oh dear" said Hermione nervously. "He's still a bit scary, isn't he?"

"Come off it, you've ridden him, haven't you?" said Ron.

Emma stepped forwards and bowed low to the Hippogriff without breaking eye contact or blinking. After a few seconds, Buckbeak sank into a bow too.

"How are you?" Emma asked him in a low voice, moving forwards to stroke the feathery head. "Missing him? But you're happy here with Hagrid, aren't you?"

"Oi!" said a loud voice.

Hagrid had come striding round the corner of his cabin wearing a large flowery apron and carrying a sack of potatoes. His enormous boarhound, Fang, was at his heels; Fang gave a booming bark and bounded forwards.

"Git away from him! He'll have yer fingers- oh. It's yeh lot."

Fang was jumping up at Emma, who was having a hard time trying to stay standing up, and was trying to lick her ears. Hagrid stood and looked at them all for a split second, then turned and strode into his cabin, slamming the door behind him.

"Oh dear!" said Hermione, looking stricken.

"Don't worry about it" said Emma grimly. She walked over to the door and knocked loudly.

"Hagrid! Open up, we want to talk to you!"

There was no sound from within.

"If you don't open the door, we'll blast it open!" Emma said, pulling out her wand.

"Emma!" said Hermione, sounding shocked. "You can't possibly..."

"Yeah, I can" Emma contradicted. "Stand back..."

But before she could say anything else, the door flew open again as Emma had known it would, and there stood Hagrid, glowering down at her, and looking, despite the flowery pinny, positively alarming, even to Emma.

"I'm a teacher!" he roared at Emma. "A teacher, Potter! How dare yeh threaten ter break down my door!"

"I'm sorry,_ sir" _said Emma, emphasising the last word as she stowed her wand inside her jean's pocket.

Hagrid looked stunned.

"Since when have yeh called me "Sir"?"

"Since when have you called me "Potter"?" Emma shot back.

"Oh, very clever" growled Hagrid. "Very amusin'. That's me outsmarted, innit? All righ', come in then, yeh ungrateful little..."

"You are not about to finish that sentence" Emma warned him.

Mumbling darkly, Hagrid stood back o let them pass. Hermione scurried in after Emma, looking rather frightened.

"Well?" said Hagrid grumpily, as Harry, Emma, Ron and Hermione sat down around his enormous wooden table, Fang laying his head immediately upon Emma's knee while she tickled him behind his ear. "What's this? Feelin' sorry for me? Reckon I'm lonely or summat?"

"No" said Harry at once. "We wanted to see you."

"We've missed you!" Emma and Hermione chorused.

"Missed me, have yeh?" snorted Hagrid. "Yeah. Righ'.

He stomped around, brewing up tea in his enormous copper kettle, muttering all the while. Judging by the look on Emma's face, it wasn't pleasant words he was using. Finally he slammed down three bucket-sized mugs of mahogany-brown tea in front of them and a plate of his rock cakes. Harry was hungry enough even for Hagrid's cooking, and took one at once.

"Hagrid" said Hermione timidly, when he joined them at the table and started peeling his potatoes with a brutality that suggested that each tuber had done him a great personal wrong "we really wanted to carry on with Care of Magical Creatures, you know."

Hagrid gave another great snort.

"They did!" said Emma. "But none of them could fit it into their timetables!"

"Yeah, righ'" Hagrid repeated again.

There was a funny squelching sound and they all looked around: Hermione and Emma let out a tiny shriek and Ron leapt out of his seat and hurried around the table away from the large barrel standing in the corner that they had only just noticed. It was full of what looked like foot-long maggots; slimy, white and writhing.

"What are they, Hagrid?" asked Harry, trying to sound interested rather than revolted, but putting down his rock cake all the same.

"Jus' giant grubs" said Hagrid.

"And they grow into...?" said Ron, looking apprehensive.

"They won' grow inter nuthin'" said Hagrid. "I got 'em ter feed ter Aragog."

And without warning, he burst into tears.

"Hagrid!" cried Emma, leaping up, hurrying around the table the long way to avoid the barrel of maggots, and putting an arm around his waist. "Whatever is the matter?"

"It's...him..." gulped Hagrid, his beetle-black eyes streaming as he mopped his face with his apron. "It's...Aragog...I think he's dyin'... he got ill over the summer an' he's not gettin' better... I don' know what I'll do if he...if he... we've bin tergether so long..."

Hermione patted Hagrid's shoulder, looking at a complete loss for anything to say. Emma knew how she felt. She had known Hagrid to present a vicious baby dragon with a teddy bear, seen him croon over giant scorpions with suckers and stings, attempt to reason with his brutal giant of a half-brother, but this was perhaps the most incomprehensible of all his monster fancies: the gigantic talking spider, Aragog, that dwelled deep in the Forbidden Forest and which she had only narrowly escaped two years previously.

"Is there- is there anything we can do?" Hermione asked, ignoring Ron's frantic grimaces and head-shakings.

"I don' think there is, Hermione" choked Hagrid, attempting to stem the flood of his tears. "See, the rest o' the tribe...Aragog's family...they're gettin a bit funny now he's ill... bit restive..."

"Yeah, I think we saw a bit of that side of them" said Ron in an undertone.

"...I don' reckon it'd be safe fer anyone but me ter go near the colony at the mo'" Hagrid finished, blowing his nose hard on his apron and looking up. "But thanks fer offerin', Hermione...it means a lot..."

After that the atmosphere lightened considerably, for although neither Harry nor Emma nor Ron had shown any inclination to go and feed giant grubs to a murderous, gargantuan spider, Hagrid seemed to take it for granted that they would have like to have done and became his usual self once more.

"Ar, I always knew yeh'd find it hard ter squeeze me inter yeh timetables" he said gruffly, pouring them more tea. "Even if yeh applied fer Time-Turners..."

"We couldn't have done" said Emma. "We smashed almost the entire stock of Ministry Time-turners when we were there in the summer. It was in the _Daily Prophet. _The only one left is the one in my room."

"Ar, well then" said Hagrid. "There's no way yeh could've done it...I'm sorry I've bin-yeh know- I've jus' bin worried abou' Aragog...an' I did wonder whether, if Professor Grubby-Plank had bin teachin' yeh..."

At which all four of them stated categorically and untruthfully that Professor Grubby-Plank, who had substituted for Hagrid a few times, was a dreadful teacher, with the result that by the time Hagrid waved them off the premises at dusk, he looked quite cheerful/

"I'm starving" said Harry, once the door had closed behind them and they were hurrying through the dark and deserted grounds; he had abandoned the rock cake after an ominous cracking noise form one of his back teeth. "And I've got that detention with Snape tonight, I haven't got much time for dinner..."

As they came into the castle they spotted Cormac McLaggen entering the Great Hall. It took him two attempts to get through the doors; he ricocheted off the frame on the first attempt. Ron merely guaffed gloatingly and strode off into the hall after him, but Harry caught Emma and Hermione's arms and held them back.

"What?" said Emma defensively.

"If you ask me" said Harry "McLaggen looks like he was Confunded. And he was standing right in front of where you were sitting, Hermione, and your eyes were glazed over for a good thirty seconds just before it was McLaggen turn, Emma."

"Oh, all right then, I told Hermione to do it" Emma whispered. "But you should have heard the way he was talking about Ron and Ginny!"

"And, anyway" Hermione added "he's got a nasty temper. You saw how he reacted when he didn't get in- you wouldn't have wanted someone like that on the team."

"No" said Harry. "No, I suppose that's true. But wasn't that dishonest, Hermione? I mean, you're a prefect, aren't you? And aren't you suppose to me setting an example, Emma?"

"Oh, be quiet" Hermione snapped, as Emma poked her tongue out at Harry while he smirked at them.

"What are you three doing?" demanded Ron, reappearing in the doorway to the Great Hall and looking suspicious.

"Nothing" said Harry, Emma and Hermione together, and they hurried after Ron. The smell of roast beef made Harry's stomach ache with hunger, but they had barely taken three steps towards the Gryffindor table when Professor Slughorn appeared in front of them, blocking their path.

"Harry, Emma, just the people I was hoping to see!" he boomed genially, twiddling the ends of his walrus moustache and puffing out his enormous belly. "I was hoping to catch you two before dinner! What do you say to a spot of supper tonight in my rooms instead? We're having a little party, just a few rising stars. I've got McLaggen coming, and Zabini, the charming Melinda Bobbin- I don't know whether you know her? Her family owns a large chain of apothecaries- and, of course, I hope very much that Miss Granger will favour me by coming, too."

Slughorn made Hermione a little bow as he finished speaking. It was as though Ron was not present; Slughorn did not as much as look at him.

"I can't come, Professor" said Harry at once. "I've got a detention with Professor Snape."

"Oh dear!" said Slughorn. "What about you, Emma?"

"Sorry, Professor, I've got to go out tonight" Emma smiled.

"Oh dear!" Slughorn repeated, his face falling comically. "Dear, dear, I was counting on you two! Well, now, I'll just have to have a word with Severus and explain the situation for you, Harry. I'm sure I'll be able to persuade him to postpone your detention. Yes, I'll see you three later!"

He bustled away out of the Hall.

"He's got no chance of persuading Snape" said Harry, the moment Slughorn was out of earshot. "This detention's already been postponed once; Snape did it for Dumbledore, but he won't do it for anyone else."

"Oh, I wish you two could come, I don't want to do on my own!" said Hermione anxiously; Harry and Emma knew that she was thinking about McLaggen.

"I doubt you will be alone, Ginny will probably be invited" snapped Ron, who did not seem to have taken kindly to being ignored by Slughorn.

After dinner they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower. The common room was very crowded, as most people had finished dinner by now, but they managed to find a free table and sat down; Ron, who had been in a very mood ever since the encounter with Slughorn, folded his arms and frowned at the ceiling.

"I've gotta go" Emma said.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked.

"I'm going to see George" Emma stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh, have a nice time" Hermione winked at her. Emma blushed ever so slightly and ran out of the common room at vampire speed.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Silver and Opals

Where was Dumbledore and what was he doing? Harry and Emma caught sight of the Headmaster only twice over the next few weeks. He rarely appeared at meals any more, and they were both sure Hermione was right in thinking that he was leaving the school for days at a time. Had Dumbledore forgotten the lessons he was supposed to be giving them? Dumbledore had said that the lessons were leading to something to do with the prophecy; Harry and Emma had both felt bolstered, comforted, and now they felt slightly abandoned.

Halfway through October came their first trip of the term to Hogsmeade. They all had wondered whether these trips would still be allowed, given the increasingly tight security measures around the school, but was pleased to know that they were going ahead. 'It was always good to get out of the castle grounds for a few hours without hundreds of protections swarming around me' Emma thought happily.

Harry woke early on the morning of the trip, which was proving stormy, and whiled away the time until breakfast by reading his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making. _He did not usually lie in bed reading his textbooks; that sort of behaviour, as Ron rightly said, was indecent in anybody expect Hermione and Emma, who were both simply weird that way. Harry felt, however, that the Half-Blood Prince's copy of _Advanced Potion-Making _hardly qualified as a textbook. The more Harry pored over the book, the more he realised how much there, not only the handy hints and short cuts on potions that were earning him such a glowing reputation with Slughorn, but also the imaginative little jinxes and hexes scribbled in the margins which Harry was sure, judging by the crossings-out and revisions, that the Prince had invented himself.

Harry had already attempted a few of the Prince's self-invented spells. There had been a hex that caused toenails to grow alarmingly fast (he had tried this on Crabbe in the corridor, with very entertaining results); a jinx that glued the tongue to roof of the mouth (which he had twice used, to general applause, on an unsuspecting Argus Filch); and the use of _Muffliato_ of anyone nearby with an unidentifiable buzzing, so that lengthy conversations could be held in class without being overheard. The person who did not find these charms amusing was Hermione, who maintained a rigidly disapproving expression throughout and refused to talk at all if Harry had used the _Muffliato _spell on anyone in the vicinity. Emma didn't find it amusing, of course, but she didn't deny that they were useful and copied down the spells that Harry found into her notebook so she could practise them herself.

Sitting up in bed, Harry turned the book sideways so as to examine more closely the scribbled instructions for a spell that seemed to have caused the Prince some trouble. There were many crossing-out and alterations, but finally, crammed into a corner of the page, the scribble:

_Levicorpus (n-vbl)_

While the wind and sleet pounded relentlessly on the windows and Neville snored loudly, Harry stared at the letters in brackets. _N-vbl... _that had to mean non-verbal. Harry rather doubted he would be able to bring off this particular spell; he was still having difficulty with non-verbal spells- which had gotten so bad that he had to get Emma to help him- something Snape had been quick to comment on in every DADA class. On the other hand, the Prince had proved very much more effective teacher than Snape so far.

Pointing his wand at nothing in particular, he gave it an upward flick and said _Levicorpus! _inside his head.

"Aaaaaaaargh!"

There was a flash of light and the room was full of voices; everyone had woken up as Ron had let out a yell. Harry sent _Advanced Potion-making _flying in panic; Ron was dangling upside-down in midair as though an invisible hook had hoisted him up by the ankle.

"Sorry!" yelled Harry, as Dean and Seamus roared with laughter and Neville picked himself up from the floor, having fallen out of bed. "Hang on- I'll let you down..."

He roped for the potion book and riffled through it in a panic, trying to find the right page at last he located it and deciphered one cramped word underneath the spell; praying that this was the counter-jinx, Harry thought _Liberacorpus! _with all his might.

There was another flash of light and Ron fell in a heap on to his mattress.

"Sorry" repeated Harry weakly, while Dean and Seamus continued to roar with laughter.

"Tomorrow" said Ron in a muffled voice "I'd rather you set the alarm clock."

By the time they had got dressed, padding themselves out with several of Mrs Weasley's hand-knitted sweaters and carrying cloaks, scarves and gloves, Ron's shock had subsided and he had decided that Harry's new spell with highly amusing; so amusing, in fact, that he lost no time in regaling Hermione and Emma with the story as they sat down for breakfast.

"...and then there was another flash of light and I landed on the bed again!" grinned Rob, helping himself to sausages.

Hermione had not cracked a smile during this anecdote- unlike Emma who had given both Harry and Ron a weak smile- and now turned an expression of wintry disapproval upon Harry.

Was this spell, by any chance, another one form that potion book of your?" she asked.

Harry frowned at her.

"Always jump to the worst conclusion, don't you?"

"Was it?"

"Well...yeah, it was, but so what?"

"So you just decided to try out an unknown, handwritten incantation and see what would happen?"

"Why does it matter if it's handwritten?" said Harry, preferring not to answer the rest of the question.

"I think Hermione is saying" said Emma, who had been unusually quiet throughout the whole of breakfast and picking at her food "that Death Eaters use that spell. And, too tell you the truth, they do use it. I've seen it; dangling people in the air. Making them float along, asleep, helpless."

Harry stared at her. With a sinking feeling he, too remembered he behaviour of the Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup.

Ron opened his mouth to come to Harry's aid, but Hermione's mind didn't seem to be on the Prince anymore, because she asked Emma "Are you alright."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine" Emma replied quickly.

Ron spared her by saying "What the Death Eaters was different. They were abusing it. Harry was just having a laugh. You don't like the Prince, Hermione" he added, pointing a sausage at her sternly "because he's better than you at Potions..."

"It's nothing to do with that!" said Hermione, her cheeks reddening. "I just think it's very irresponsible to start performing spells when you don't even know what they're for, and stop talking about 'the Prince' as if it's his title, I bet it's just a stupid nickname and it doesn't seem as though he was a very nice person to me!"

"I don't see where you get that from" said Harry heatedly "if he's been a budding Death Eater he wouldn't have been boasting about being 'Half-Blood', would he?"

Even as he said it, Harry remembered that his father had been pure-blood, but he pushed the thought out of his mind; he would worry about that later...

"The Death Eaters can't all be pure-blood, there aren't enough pure-blood wizards left" said Hermione stubbornly. "I expect most of them are half-bloods pretending to be pure. It's only Muggle-borns they hate. They'd be quite happy to let you, Emma and Ron join up."

"There is no way they'd let me be a Death Eater!" said Ron indignantly, a bit of sausage flying off the fork he was now brandishing at Hermione and hitting Ernie Macmillan on the head. "My whole family are blood traitors! That's as bad as Muggle-borns to Death Eaters!"

"And they'd love to have me and Harry" said Emma sarcastically. "We'd be best pals if they didn't keep trying to do us both in."

This made Ron laugh; even Hermione gave a grudging smile, and a distraction arrived in the shape of Ginny.

"Hey, Harry, Emma I'm supposed to give you both this."

It was a scroll of parchment with Harry and Emma's name written upon it in familiar thin, slanting writing.

"Thanks, Ginny... its Dumbledore's next lesson!" Emma told Ron and Hermione, pulling open the parchment and quickly reading its contents. "Monday evening!"

Harry felt suddenly light and happy. "Want to join us in Hogsmeade, Ginny?" he asked.

Emma winked at Ginny discreetly.

"I'm going with Dean; but I might see you there" she replied, waving at them as she left.

Filch was standing at the oak front doors as usual, checking off the names of people who had permission to go into Hogsmeade. The process took even longer than normal as Filch was triple-checking everybody with his Secrecy Sensor.

"What does it matter if we're smuggling Dark stuff OUT?" demanded Ron, eyeing the long thin Secrecy Sensor with apprehension. "Surely you ought to be checking what we bring back IN?"

"We could be smuggling out something dangerous to the Death Eaters" Emma pointed out to him, rolling her eyes.

All the same, his check earned him a few extra jabs with the Senor, and he was still wincing as they stepped out into the wind and sleet.

The walk into Hogsmeade was not enjoyable. Harry wrapped his scarf over his lower face; the exposed part soon felt both raw and numb- he was slightly surprised to see Emma was merely wearing some jeans, a long-sleeved top and some pumps, but figured it was a vampire thing. The road to the village was full of students bent double against the bitter wind. More than once Harry and Emma wondered whether they might not have had a better wondered whether they might not have had a better time in the warm common room, and when they finally reached Hogsmeade and saw Zonko's Joke Shop had been boarded up, they both took it as confirmation that this trip was not destined to be fun. Ron pointed with a thickly gloved hand towards Honeydukes, which was mercifully open, and Harry, Emma and Hermione staggered in his wake into the crowded shop.

"Thank God" shivered Ron as they were enveloped by warm, toffee-scented air. "Let's stay here all afternoon."

"It's not _that _cold" Emma began, but stopped when the three of them looked at her as if she had gone mad.

"Harry, Emma!" said a booming voice from behind them.

"Oh, no" muttered Harry and Emma together and the four of them turned to see Professor Slughorn, who was wearing an enormous furry hat and overcoat with matching fur collar, clutching a large bag of crystallised pineapple and occupying at least a quarter of the shop.

"Harry, Emma, that's three of my little suppers you've missed now!" said Slughorn, poking them both genially in their chests. "It won't do, you two. I'm absolutely determined to have you two. Miss Granger loves them, don't you?"

"Yes" said Hermione helplessly "they're really..."

"So why don't you two come along?" demanded Slughorn.

"Well, I've had Quidditch practice which Emma helps out with, Professor" said Harry, who had indeed been scheduling practices every time Slughorn had sent him and Emma a little violet-ribbon-adorned invitation. This strategy meant that Ron was not left out and the three of them usually had a laugh with Ginny imagining Hermione shut up with McLaggen and Zabini.

"Well, I certainly expect you two to win your first match after all this hard work!" said Slughorn. "But a little recreation never hurt anybody. Now, how about Monday night, you can't possibly want to practise in this weather..."

"We can't, Professor, we've got an appointment with Professor Dumbledore that evening" Emma explained.

"Unlucky again!" cried Slughorn dramatically. "Ah well... you two can't evade me forever!"

And with a regal wave, he waddled out of the shop, taking as little notice of Ron as though he had merely been a display of Cockroach Cluster.

"I can't believe you two have wriggled out of another one" said Hermione, shaking her head. "They're not that bad, you know... they're even quite fun sometimes..." But then she caught sight of Ron's expression. "Oh, look- they've got Deluxe Sugar Quills- those would last hours!"

Glad that Hermione had changed the subject, both Harry and Emma showed much more interest in the new extra-large Sugar Quills than they normally have done, but Ron continued to look moody and merely shrugged when Hermione asked him where he wanted to go next.

"Let's go to the Three Broomsticks" Emma suggested. "At least it will be warm enough for you guys there."

They bundled their scarves back over their faces and left the sweet shop. The bitter wind was like knives on their faces after the sugary warmth of Honeydukes. The street was not very busy; nobody was lingering to chat, just hurrying towards their destinations.

When they found a table in the Three Broomsticks, Emma became aware that loads of people were staring at them. This made her uncomfortable and her vampire instincts began to work overdrive again. You'd think she would have gotten used to this by now, but she hadn't, and she was sat ridged in her seat, finding it difficult to relax.

"Ron, what are you staring at?" Hermione whispered.

"Nothing" said Ron, hastily looking away from the bar, but Harry and Emma knew he was trying to catch the eye of the curvy and very attractive barmaid, Madam Rosmerta, for whom he had long nursed a soft spot.

"I expect 'nothing's in the back getting more Firewhisky" said Hermione waspishly.

Ron ignored this jibe, sipping his drink in what he evidently considered to be a dignified silence.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Hermione asked Emma worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You've been very stressed lately" Harry pointed out.

"Fine" she sighed, giving up "I and George got into a bit of a fight."

"Ouch. What about" Hermione said sympathetically.

"Well, I was going to invite Percy to the wedding" Emma explained "because I thought I'd give him a chance. And so George, of course, disagreed. And so we argued for ages until he just sort of... stormed out of the place..."

She trailed off, wincing at the memory.

"Don't worry" Hermione reassured her. "He'll come back. He's always had a bit of a soft spot for you."

"Thanks" Emma smiled, feeling a little bit better.

The moment Harry drained the last drops in his bottle he said "Shall we call it a day and go back to school then?"

The other three nodded; it had not been a fun trip and the weather was getting worse the longer they stayed. Once again they drew their cloaks tightly around them, rearranged their scarves, pulled on their gloves; then followed Katie Bell and a friend out of the pub and back up the High Street. Harry's thoughts strayed to Ginny as they trudged up the road to Hogwarts through the frozen slush. They had not met up with her, undoubtedly, thought Harry, because she and Dean were cosily closeted in Madam Puddifoot's teashop, that haunt of happy couples. Scowling, he bowed his head against the swirling sleet and trudged on.

It was a little while before Emma became aware that the voices of Katie Bell and her friend, which were being carried back to her on the wind, had become shriller and louder. Emma watched them silently; something was terribly wrong and she couldn't decide what. The two girls were having an argument about something Katie was holding in her hands.

"It's nothing to do with you, Leanne!" Emma heard Katie say.

They rounded a corner in the lane, sleet coming thick and fast. Emma saw Leanne make a grab hold of the package Katie was holding; Katie tugged it back and the package fell to the ground.

At once, Katie rose into the air. Then, at least six feet above the ground, Katie let out a terrible scream.

"Stay back!" Emma shouted, taking control at once. She tugged Katie down from the air and caught her neatly.

"Something happened to her!" sobbed Leanne. "I don't know what..."

Emma took her pulse, listened to her breathing and all the while she rithered in her arms. She then jerked her head up to look at Leanne and said urgently "I need you to tell me what happened, quickly."

"It was when the package tore" Leanne cried, pointing at the now sodden brown-paper package on the ground, which had split open to reveal a greenish glitter; a necklace.

"Harry, I want you to pick it up, but don't touch with you your bare skin" Emma said.

Harry wrapped the necklace in his scarf.

The five of them ran towards the castle with Emma carrying Katie who still hadn't stopped withering in her arms.

"McGonagall!" said Ron.

Emma looked up from Katie's body in her arms. Sure enough, Professor McGonagall was hurrying down the stone steps through swirling sleep to meet them.

"I got your message, Miss Potter. Take her straight up to the hospital wing and then come straight back to my office. What's that you're holding, Mr Potter?"

"It's the thing she touched" said Harry.

"Good Lord" said Professor McGonagall, looking alarmed as she took the necklace from Harry carefully. "No, no, Filch, they're with me!" she added hastily, as Filch came shuffling eagerly across the Entrance Hall holding his Secrecy Sensor aloft.

Once Emma had done what she was told, she ran straight back to McGonagall. She and the others followed Professor McGonagall upstairs and into her office. The sleet-spattered windows were rattling in their frames and the room was chilly despite the fire crackling in the grate. Professor McGonagall closed the door and swept round her desk to face Harry, Emma, Ron, Hermione and the still-sobbing Leanne.

"Well" she said sharply. "What happened?"

Haltingly, and with many pauses while she attempted to control her crying, Leanne told Professor McGonagall how Katie had gone to the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks and returned holding the unmarked package, how Katie had seemed a little odd and how they had argued about the advisability of agreeing to deliver unknown object, the argument culminating in the tussle over the parcel, which tore open. At this point, Leanne was so overcome there was o getting another word out of her and Emma tried to comfort her the best she could.

"All right" said Professor McGonagall, not unkindly "go up to the hospital wing, please, Leanne, and get Madam Pomfrey to give you something for shock."

When she had left the room, Professor McGonagall turned back to Harry, Emma, Ron and Hermione.

"What happened when Katie touched the necklace?"

"She rose up in the air" said Emma before Harry could say even a word "and then she started to scream and writher before I had time to pull her down."

"Okay, thank you for telling me this, Miss Potter" said Professor McGonagall. "Fifty points for you for your quick thinking. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go up to the hospital wing now to check on Katie Bell. Good day to you all."

She held open her office door and they filed past her as quickly without another word.

"So who do you reckon Katie was supposed to give the necklace to?" asked Ron, as they climbed the stairs to the common room.

"Goodness only knows" said Hermione. "But whoever it was has had a narrow escape. No one could have opened that package without touching the necklace.

"It could've been meant for loads of people" said Harry. "Dumbledore- the Death Eaters would love to get rid of him, he must be one of their top targets. Or Slughorn- Dumbledore reckons Voldemort really wanted him and they can't be pleased that he's sided with Dumbledore. Or..."

"Or you two" said Hermione, looking troubled.

"No" said Emma firmly, and they didn't argue with her. They knew that look on her face; it meant she knew something they didn't, but they knew better than to ask what it was.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The Secret Riddle

Katie was removed to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries the following day, by which time the news that she had been cursed had spread all over the school, though the details were confused and nobody other than Harry, Ron, Hermione, Emma and Leanne seemed to know that Katie herself had not been the intended target.

"Oh, and Malfoy knows, of course" said Harry to Ron, Hermione and Emma, who continued their new policy of feigning deafness whenever Harry mentioned his Malfoy-is-a-Death-Eater theory.

Harry and Emma had both wondered whether Dumbledore would return from wherever he had been in time for Monday night's lesson, but having had no word to the contrary, they presented themselves outside Dumbledore's office at eight o'clock, knocked, and were told to enter. There sat Dumbledore, looking unusually tired; his hand was as black and burned as ever, but he smiled when he gestured to Harry and Emma to sit down. The Pensieve was sitting on the desk again, casting silvery specks of light over the ceiling.

"You have had a busy time while I have been away" Dumbledore said, "I believe you two witnessed Katie's accident."

"Yes, sir" Emma nodded. "How is she?"

"Still very unwell, although she was relatively lucky. She appears to have merely brushed the necklace with the smallest possible amount of skin: there was a tiny hole in her glove. Had she put it on, had she even held it in her ungloved hand, she would have died, perhaps instantly. Luckily Professor Snape was able to do enough to prevent a rapid spread of the curse."

"Why him?" asked Harry quickly. "Why not Madam Pomfrey?"

"Impertinent" said a soft voice from one of the portraits on the wall, and Phineas Nigellus Black, Sirius's great-great- grandfather, raised his head from his arms where he had appeared to be sleeping. "I would not have permitted a student to question the way Hogwarts operated in my day."

"Thank you, Phineas" said Emma calmly, rolling her eyes.

"Professor Snape knows much more about the Dark Arts than Madam Pomfrey, Harry. Anyway, the St Mungo's staffs are sending me hourly reports and I am hopeful that Katie will make a full recovery in time."

"Where were you this weekend, sir?" Harry asked, disregarding a strong feeling that he might be pushing his luck, a feeling apparently shared by Phineas Nigellus. Phineas hissed and Emma sighed, rolling her eyes for the second time.

"I would rather not say just now" said Dumbledore. "However, I shall tell both of you in due course."

"You will?" said Harry, startled; a feeling shared by Emma whose eyes widened a little.

"Yes, I expect so" said Dumbledore, withdrawing a fresh bottle of silver memories from inside his robes and uncorking it with a prod of his wand.

"Professor" said Harry, after a short pause "did Professor McGonagall tell you what I told her the day after Katie got hurt? About Draco Malfoy?"

Beside him, Emma stiffened a little, though Harry had no idea why.

"She told me of your suspicions, yes" said Dumbledore.

"And do you...?"

"I shall take all appropriate measures to investigate anyone who might have a hand in Katie's accident" said Dumbledore. "But what concerns me now, Harry, is our lesson."

Harry and Emma both felt slightly resentful at this: if their lessons were so very important, why had there been such a long gap between the first and second? However, Harry said no more about Draco Malfoy, but watched as Dumbledore poured the fresh memories into the Pensieve, and began swirling the stone basin once more between his long-fingered hands.

"You will remember, I am sure, that we left the tale of Lord Voldemort's beginnings at the point where the handsome Muggle, Tom Riddle, had abandoned his witch wife, Merope, and returned to his family home in Little Hangleton. Merope was left alone in London, expecting the baby who would one day become Lord Voldemort."

"How do you know she was in London, sir?" Emma asked.

"Because of the evidence of one Caractacus Burke" said Dumbledore "who, by an odd coincidence, helped found the very shop whence came the necklace we have just been discussing."

He swilled the contents of the Pensieve as Harry and Emma had seen him swill them before, much as a gold prospector sifts for gold. Up out of the swirling, silvery mass rose a little old man, revolving slowly in the Pensieve, silver as a ghost but much more solid, with a thatch of hair that completely covered his eyes.

"Yes, we acquired it in curious circumstances. It was brought in by a young witch before Christmas, oh, many years ago now. She said she needed the gold badly, well, that much was obvious. Covered in rags and pretty far along... going to have a baby, see. She said the locket had been Slytherin's. Well, we hear that sort of story all the time "Oh, this was Merlin's, this was, his favourite teapot" but when I looked at it, it had his mark all right, and a few simple spells were enough to tell me the truth. Of course, that made it near enough priceless. She didn't seem to have any idea how much it was worth. Happy to get ten Galleons for it. Best bargain we ever made!"

Dumbledore gave the Pensieve an extra-vigorous shake and Caractacus Burke descended back into the swirling mass of memory whence he had come.

"He only gave her ten Galleons?" said Emma indignantly. "That sly old piece of filth!"

"Caractacus Burke was not famed for his generosity" said Dumbledore. "So we know that, near the end of her pregnancy, Merope was alone in London and in desperate need of gold, desperate enough to sell her one and only valuable possession, the locket that was one of Marvolo's treasured family heirlooms."

"But she could do magic!" said Harry impatiently. "She could have got food and everything for herself by magic, couldn't she?"

"Ah" said Dumbledore "perhaps she could."

Emma had an odd expression on her face when she said "I think that when her husband abandoned her, Merope stopped using magic. Maybe she didn't want to be a witch anymore. I know I wouldn't."

Dumbledore nodded and said "Yes. Of course, it is also possible that her unrequited love and the attendant despair sapped her of her powers; that can happen. In any case, as you are about to see, Merope refused to raise her wand even to save her own life."

"She wouldn't even stay alive for her son?" Emma asked a little sympathetically.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"Could you possibly be feeling sorry for Lord Voldemort?"

Emma scowled and said defensively "So what if I am?"

"But she had a choice, didn't she" Harry said "not like our mother..."

"Mum had a choice too, Harry" Emma said quietly, her face softening.

"Yes, Merope Riddle chose death in spite of a son who needed her" Dumbledore nodded "but do not judge her too harshly, Harry. She was greatly weakened by long suffering and she never had your mother's courage. And now, if you two will stand..."

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, as Dumbledore joined them at the front of the desk.

"This time" said Dumbledore "we are going to enter my memory. I think you will find it both rich in details and satisfyingly accurate. After you two..."

Emma bent over the Pensieve first; her face broke the cool surface of the memory and then she was falling through darkness again... Seconds later her feet hit firm ground, she opened her eyes and found that she, Harry and Dumbledore were standing in a bustling, old-fashioned London street.

"There I am" said Dumbledore brightly, pointing ahead of them at a tall figure crossing the road in front of a horse-drawn milk cart.

This younger Albus Dumbledore's long hair and beard was auburn. Having reached their side of the street, he strode off along the pavement, drawing many curious glances due to the flamboyantly cut suit of plum velvet that he was wearing.

"Nice suit, sir" chorused Harry and Emma, before either of them could stop themselves, but Dumbledore merely chuckled as they followed his younger self a short distance, finally passing through a set of iron gates into a bare courtyard that fronted a rather grim, square building surrounded by high railings. He mounted the few steps leading to the front door and knocked once. After a moment or two the door opened by a scruffy girl wearing an apron.

"Good afternoon. I have an appointment with a Mrs Cole, who, I believe, is the matron here?"

"Oh" said the bewildered-looking girl, taking in Dumbledore's eccentric appearance. "Um...just a mo'... MRS COLE!" she bellowed over her shoulder.

Harry and Emma heard a distant voice shouting something in response. The girl turned back to Dumbledore.

"Come in, she's on 'er way."

Dumbledore stepped into a hallway tiled in black and white; the whole place was shabby but spotlessly clean. Harry, Emma and the older Dumbledore followed. Before the front door had closed them, a skinny, harassed-looking woman came scurrying towards them. She had a sharp-featured face that appeared more anxious than unkind and she was talking over her shoulder to another aproned helper as she walked towards Dumbledore.

"...and take the iodine upstairs to Martha, Billy Stubbs has been picking his scabs and Eric Whalley's oozing all over his sheets- chicken pox on top of everything else" she said to nobody in particular, and then her eyes fell upon Dumbledore and she stopped dead in her tracks, looking as astonished as if a giraffe had just crossed her threshold.

"Good afternoon" said Dumbledore, holding out his hand as if he got this reaction all the time.

Mrs Cole simply gaped.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore. I sent you a letter requesting an appointment and you very kindly invited me here today."

Mrs Cole blinked. Apparently deciding that Dumbledore was not a hallucination, she said feebly "Oh, yes. Well- well, then- you'd better come into my room. Yes."

She led Dumbledore into a small room that seemed part sitting room, part office. It was as shabby as the hallway and the furniture was old and mismatched. She invited Dumbledore to sit on a rickety chair and seated herself behind a cluttered desk, eyeing him nervously.

"I am here, as I told you in my letter, to discuss Tom Riddle and arrangements for his future" said Dumbledore.

"Are you family" asked Mrs Cole.

"No, I am a teacher" said Dumbledore. "I have come to offer Tom a place at my school."

"What school's this, then?"

"It is called Hogwarts" said Dumbledore.

"And how come you're interested in Tom?"

"We believe he has qualities we are looking for."

"You mean he's won a scholarship? How can he have done? He's never been entered for one."

"Well, his name has been down for our school ever since birth..."

"Who registered him? His parents?"

There was no doubt that Mrs Cole was an inconveniently sharp woman. Apparently Dumbledore thought so too, for Harry and Emma now both saw him slip his wand out of the pocket of his velvet suit, at the same time picking up a piece of perfectly blank paper from Mrs Cole's desktop.

"Here" said Dumbledore, waving his wand once as he passed her the piece of paper "I think this will make everything clear."

Mrs Cole's eyes slid out of focus and back again as she gazed intently at the blank paper for a moment.

"Oh, Dumbledore, you sly old dog" Emma chuckled quietly.

"That seems perfectly in order" she said placidly, handing it back. Then her eyes fell upon a bottle of gin and two glasses that had certainly not been present a few seconds before.

"Err- may I offer you a glass of gin?" she said in an extra-refined voice.

"Thank you very much" said Dumbledore, beaming and Emma detected a double meaning in his words but she wasn't sure whether Harry had or not.

It soon became clear that Mrs Cole was no novice when it came to gin-drinking. Pouring both of them a generous measure, she drained her own glass in one. Smacking her lips frankly, she smiled at Dumbledore for the first time, and he didn't hesitate to press his advantage.

"I was wondering whether you could tell me anything of Tom Riddle's history. I think he was born here in the orphanage?"

"That's right" said Mrs Cole, helping herself to more gin. "I remember it clear as anything, because I'd just started here myself. New Year's Eve and bitter cold, snowing, you know. Nasty night. And this girl, not much older than I was myself at the time, came staggering up the front steps. Well, she wasn't the first. We took her in and she had the baby within the hour. And she was dead in another hour."

Mrs Cole nodded impressively nod took another generous gulp of gin.

"Did she say anything before she died?" asked Dumbledore. "Anything about the boy's father, for instance?"

"Now, as it happens, she did" said Mrs Cole, who seemed to be rather enjoying herself now, with the gin in her hand and an eager audience for her story.

"I remember she said to me 'I hope he looks like his papa' and I won't lie, she was right to hope it, because she was no beauty- and then she told me he was to be named Tom, for his father, and Marvolo, for her father- yes, I know, funny name, isn't it? We wondered whether she came from a circus- and she said the boy's surname was to be Riddle. And she died soon after that without another word.

"Well, we named him just as she had said, it seemed so important to the poor girl, but no Tom nor Marvolo nor any kind of Riddle ever came looking for him, nor any family at all, so he stayed in the orphanage and he's been here ever since."

Mrs Cole helped herself, almost absent-mindedly, to another healthy measure of gin. Two pink spots had appeared high on her cheek-bones. The she said "He's a funny boy."

"Yes" said Dumbledore. "I thought he might be."

"He was a funny baby, too/ He hardly ever cried, you know. And then, when he got a little older, he was...odd."

"Odd, in what way?" asked Dumbledore gently.

"Well, he..."

She paused and Dumbledore did not press her, though Harry and Emma could tell that he was interested. She took yet another gulp of gin and her rosy cheeks grew rosier still.

"Billy Stubbs's rabbit...well, Tom said he didn't do it and I don't see how he could have done, but even so, it didn't hand itself from the rafters, did it?"

"I shouldn't think so, no" said Dumbledore quietly and patiently.

"But I'm jiggered if I know how he got up there to do it. All I know is he and Billy had argued the day before. And then..." Mrs Cole took another swig of gin, slopping a little over her chin this time "...on the summer outing...we take them out, you know, once a year, to the countryside or to the seaside... well, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were never quite right afterwards, and all we ever got out of them was that they'd gone into a cave with Tom Riddle. He swore they'd just gone exploring, but something happened in there, I'm sure of it. And, well, there have been a lot of things, funny things..."

She looked at Dumbledore again, and though her cheeks were flushed, her gaze was steady.

"I don't think many people will be sorry to see the back of him."

"You understand I'm sure, that we will not be keeping him permanently?" said Dumbledore. "He will have to return here, at the very least, every summer."

"Oh well, that's better than a whack on the nose with a rusty poker" said Mrs Cole with a slight hiccough. She got to her feet and Emma and Harry were very impressed to see that she was quite steady, even though two-thirds of the gin was now gone. "I suppose you would like to see him?"

"Very much" said Dumbledore, rising too.

She led him out of her office and up the stone stairs, calling out instructions and admonitions to helpers and children as she passed. The orphans, they saw, were all wearing the same kind of greyish tunic. They looked reasonably well-cared-for, but there was no denying that this was a grim place in which to grow up. Emma shuddered slightly when she realised this was what she and Harry might have got if Dumbledore and the others hadn't found them first. Who knew what would happen then.

"Here we are" said Mrs Cole, as they turned off the second landing and stopped outside the first door in a long corridor. She knocked twice and entered.

"Tom? You've got a visitor. This is Mr Dumbledore. He's come to tell you...well... I'll let him do it."

Harry, Emma and the two Dumbledores entered the room and Mrs Cole closed the door on them. It was a small bare room with nothing in it except an old wardrobe and an iron bedstead. A boy was sitting on top of the grey blankets, his legs stretched out in front of him, holding a book.

"They seriously need some colour here" Emma muttered, eyeing the bare walls and the floor.

There was no trace of the Gaunts in Tom Riddle's face. Merope had got her dying wish: he was his handsome father in miniature, tall for eleven years old, dark-haired and pale. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in Dumbledore's eccentric appearance. There was a moment's silence.

"How do you do, Tom?" said Dumbledore, waking forwards and holding out his hand.

The boy hesitated, and then took it, and they shook hands. Dumbledore drew up the hard wooden chair beside Riddle, so that the pair of them looked rather like a hospital patient and visitor.

"I am Professor Dumbledore."

"'Professor'?" repeated Riddle. He looked wary. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in here to have a look at me?"

He was pointing at the door through which Mrs Cole had just left.

"No, no" said Dumbledore, smiling.

"I don't believe you" said Riddle. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell me the truth!"

He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost shocking. It was a command and it was obvious to Emma that it had worked so many times before now. His eyes had widened and he was glaring at Dumbledore, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds Riddle stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, warier still.

"Who are you?"

"I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school- you new school, if you would like to come."

Riddle's reaction to this was most surprising. He leapt from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, looking furious.

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you are from, isn't it? 'Professor', yes, of course- well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they will tell you!"

"I am not from the asylum" said Dumbledore patiently and calmly. "I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you..."

"I'd like to see them try" sneered Riddle.

"Hogwarts" Dumbledore went on, as though he had not heard Riddle's last words "is a school for people with special abilities..."

"I'm not mad!"

"I know you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic."

There was silence. Riddle had frozen, his face expressionless, but his eyes were flickering back and forth between each if Dumbledore's eyes, as though trying to catch one of them lying.

"Magic?" he repeated in a whisper.

"That's right" said Dumbledore.

"It's... it's magic, what I can do?"

"What is it that you can do?"

"All sorts" breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

His legs were trembling. He stumbled forwards and sat down on the bed again, staring at his hands, his head bowed as though in prayer.

"I knew I was different" he whispered to his own quivering fingers. "I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something."

"Well, you were quite right" said Dumbledore, who was no longer smiling, but watching Riddle intently. "You are a wizard."

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: there was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better-looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial.

"Are you a wizard too?"

"Yes, I am."

"Prove it" said Riddle at once, in the same commanding tone he had used when he had said 'tell the truth'.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts..."

"Of course I am!"

"Then you will address me as 'Professor' or 'sir'."

Riddle's expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he said, in an unrecognisably polite voice "I'm sorry, sir. I meant- please, Professor, could you show me...?"

Harry was sure- though Emma was not- that Dumbledore was going to refuse, that he would tell Riddle there would be plenty of times for practical demonstrations at Hogwarts, that they were currently in a building full of Muggles, and must therefore be cautions. To Harry's great surprise, however, Dumbledore0 drew his wand from0 an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner and gave the wand a casual flick.

The wardrobe burst into flames.

Emma jerked backwards, her eyes full of fear and Riddle jumped to his feet. Neither of them could blame Riddle for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must have been in there; but even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore, then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand.

"Where can I get one of them?"

"All in good time" said Dumbledore. "I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe.

And sure enough, a faint rattling could be heard from inside it. For the first time, Riddle looked frightened.

"Open the door" said Dumbledore.

Riddle hesitated, then crossed the room and threw open the wardrobe door. On the topmost shelf, above a rail of threadbare clothes, a small cardboard box was shaking and rattling as though there were several frantic mice trapped inside it.

"Take it out" said Dumbledore.

Riddle took down the quaking box. He looked unnerved.

"Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have?" asked Dumbledore.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear calculating look.

"Yes, I suppose so, sir" he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

"Open it" said Dumbledore.

Riddle took off the lid and tipped the contents on to his bed without looking at them. Harry and Emma, who had both expected something much more exciting, saw a mess of small, everyday objects; a yo-yo, a silver thimble and a tarnished mouth-organ among them. Once free of the box, they stopped quivering and lay quite still upon the thin blankets.

"You will return them to their owners with your apologies" said Dumbledore calmly, putting his wand back into his jacket. "I shall know whether it has been done. And be warned: thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts."

Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colourless voice "Yes, sir."

"At Hogwarts" Dumbledore went on "we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have- inadvertently, I am sure- been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you. But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic- yes, there is a Ministry- will punish law-breakers still more severely. All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws."

"Yes, sir" said Riddle again.

It was impossible to tell what he was thinking- a feeling Emma was having trouble getting used to- his face remained quite blank as he put the little cache of stolen objects back into the cardboard box. When he had finished he turned to Dumbledore and said baldly "I haven't got any money."

"That is easily remedied" said Dumbledore, drawing a leather money-pouch from his pocket. "There is a fund at Hogwarts for those who require assistance to buy books and robes. You might have to buy some of your spellbooks and so on second-hand, but..."

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money-bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

"Manners" Emma muttered, rolling her eyes.

"In Diagon Alley" said Dumbledore. "I have your list of books and school equipment with me. I can help you find everything..."

"You're coming with me?" asked Riddle, looking up.

"Certainly, if you..."

"I don't need you" said Riddle. "I'm used to doing things for myself; I go round London on my won all the time. How do you get to this Diagon Alley...sir?" he added, catching Dumbledore's eye.

Harry and Emma though that Dumbledore would insist upon accompanying Riddle- at least, that was what he said to Emma when she was eleven- but once again they were surprised. Dumbledore handing Riddle the envelope containing his list of equipment, and, after telling Riddle exactly how to get to the Leaky Cauldron form the orphanage, he said "You will be able to see it, although Muggles around you- non-magical people, that is- will not. Ask for Tom the barman- easy enough to remember, as he shares your name..."

Riddle gave an irritable twitch, as though trying to displace an irksome fly.

"You dislike the name 'Tom'?"

"There are a lot of Toms" muttered Riddle. Then, as though he could not suppress the question, as though it burst from him in spite of himself, he asked "Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom Riddle too, they've told me."

"I'm afraid I don't know" said Dumbledore, his voice gentle.

"My mother can't have been magic, or she wouldn't have died" said Riddle, more to himself than Dumbledore and Emma bit her lip. "It must've been him. So- when I've got all my stuff- when do I come to this Hogwarts?"

"All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope" said Dumbledore. "You will leave from King's Cross Station on the first of September. There is a train ticket in there, too."

Riddle nodded. Dumbledore got to his feet and held out his hand again. Taking it, Riddle said "I can speak to snakes I found out when we've been to the country on trips- they find me, they whisper to me. Is that normal for a wizard?"

Harry and Emma both could tell that he had withheld mention of this strangest power until that moment, determined to impress.

"It is unusual" said Dumbledore, after a moment's hesitation "but not unheard of."

His tone was casual but his eyes moved curiously over Riddle's face. They stood for a moment, man and boy, staring at each other. Then the handshake was broken; Dumbledore was at the door.

"Goodbye, Tom, I shall see you at Hogwarts."

"I think that will do" said the white-haired Dumbledore at Harry and Emma's side, and seconds later they were soaring weightlessly through darkness once more, before landing squarely in the present-day office.

"Sit down" said Dumbledore, landing beside them.

Harry and Emma obeyed their minds still full of what they had just seen.

"He believed it much quicker than I did- I mean, when you told him he was a wizard" said Harry. "I didn't believe Hagrid at first, when he told me."

Emma smiled. "He was quicker than me too. It took me two days and I bet that was longer than you."

"Yes, Riddle was perfectly ready to believe that he was- to use his word- 'special'"

"Did you know...then?" asked Emma quietly.

"Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?" said Dumbledore. "No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is now. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others' sake as much as his.

"His powers, as you heard, were surprisingly well-developed for such a young wizard and- most interestingly and ominously of all- he had already discovered that he had some measure of control over them, and begun to use them consciously. And as you saw, they were not the random experiments typical of young wizards: he was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control. The little stories of the strangled rabbit and the young boy and girl he lured into a cave were most suggestive...'I can make them hurt if I want to'..."

"And he was a Parselmouth" interjected Harry.

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected to the Dark Arts, although, as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me early as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy and domination.

"Time is making fools of us again" said Dumbledore, indicating the dark sky beyond the windows. "But before we part, I want to draw your attentions to certain features of the scene we have just witnessed, for they have great bearing on the matters we shall be discussing in future meetings.

"Firstly, I hope you noticed Riddles reaction when I mentioned that another shared his first name 'Tom'?"

Harry and Emma nodded together.

"There he showed his contempt for anything that tied him to other people, anything that made him ordinary. Even then, he wished to be different, separate, and notorious. He shed his name, as you know, within a few short years of that conversation and created the mask of 'Lord Voldemort' behind which he has been hidden for so long.

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive and, apparently, friendless? He did not want help or companionship on his trip to Diagon Alley. He preferred to operate alone. The adult Voldemort is the same. You will hear many of his Death Eaters claiming that they are in his confidence, that they alone are close to him, even understand him. They are deluded. Lord Voldemort has never had a friend, nor do I believe that he has ever wanted one.

"And lastly- I hope you two are not too sleepy to pay attention to this- the young Tom Riddle liked to collect trophies. You saw the box of stolen articles he had hidden in his room. There were taken from victims of his bullying behaviours, souvenirs, if you will, of particularly unpleasant bits of magic. Bear in mind this magpie-like tendency, for this, particularly, with be important later.

"And now, it really is time for bed."

Harry and Emma both got to their feet. As they walked across the room, Emma's eyes fell upon the little table on which Marvolo Gaunt's ring had rested last time, but the ring was no longer there. She froze.

"Yes, Emma?" said Dumbledore. Harry turned around to face her.

"The ring's gone" said Emma, looking around. "But I thought you might have the mouth-organ or something."

"What ring?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore beamed at them, peering over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

"Very astute, Emma, but the mouth-organ was only ever a mouth-organ."

And on that enigmatic note he waved to Harry and Emma, who understood themselves to be dismissed.

**AN: Sorry, it took forever to upload. I've been away and all.**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Felix Felicis

Harry and Emma had been unable to tell Ron and Hermione about their lesson with Dumbledore over breakfast for fear of being overheard, but they filled them in as they walked across the vegetable patch towards the greenhouses where Emma was dropping them off for Herbology. The Weekend's brutal wind had died out at last; the weird mist had returned. If it wasn't for Emma and her super senses, they would have taken a lot longer than usual to find the correct greenhouse.

"Wow, scary thought, the boy You-Know-Who" said Ron quietly, as Emma darted under the table. The others took their places around one of the gnarled Snargaluff stumps that formed that term's project, and began pulling on their protective gloves. "But I still don't get why Dumbledore's showing you two all this. I mean, it's really interesting and everything, but what's the point? Do you have any idea, Emma?"

"Dunno" Emma whispered, so their teacher didn't notice she was here. "But he says it's all important and it'll help me survive."

"I think it's fascinating" said Hermione earnestly.

"Oh course you do" Emma mumbled but Hermione ignored her while Ron and Harry sniggered.

"It makes absolute sense to know as much about Voldemort as possible" Hermione continued. "How else will you find out his weaknesses?"

"So how was Slughorn's latest party?" Emma asked.

"Oh, it was quite fun, really" said Hermione, now putting on protective goggles. "I mean, he drones on about famous ex-pupils a bit, and he absolutely fawns on McLaggen because he's so well-connected, but he gave us some really nice food and he introduced us to Gwenog Jones."

"Gwenog Jones?" said Ron, his eyes widening under his own goggles. "The Gwenog Jones? Captain of the Holyhead harpies?"

"Yes, anyway" said Hermione, rolling her eyes "Slughorn's going to have a Christmas party and there's no way you two will be able to wriggle out of this one because he actually asked me to check your free evenings, so he could be sure to have t on a night you can come."

Harry and Emma groaned. Ron, meanwhile, who was attempting to burst the pod in the bowl by putting both hands on it, standing up and squashing it as hard as he could, said angrily "And this is another party just for Slughorn's favourites, is it?"

"Just for the Slug Club, yes" said Hermione.

The pod flew out from under Ron's fingers and hit the greenhouse glass, rebounding on to the back of Professor Sprout's head and knocking off her old patched hat. Harry went to retrieve the pod; when he got back, Emma had her head in her hands and moaning to herself while Hermione was saying "Look, I didn't make up the name 'Slug Club'..."

"'Slug Club'" repeated Ron with a sneer worthy of Malfoy. "It's pathetic. Well, I hope you enjoy your party. Why don't you try getting off with McLaggen, then Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug..."

"We're allowed to bring guests" said Hermione, who for some reason had turned a bright, boiling scarlet "and I was going to ask you to come, but if you think it's that stupid then I won't bother!"

Harry suddenly wished the pod had flown a little further, so that he need not have been sitting there with the pair of them bickering. Emma rolled her eyes at him and winced.

_Yeah, I hate it too _Emma's voice sounded in his head.

_What?_

_Yeah, I know, pretty cool huh. I found it out a couple of days ago._

Unfortunately, their conversation couldn't block out Hermione and Ron's bickering.

"You were going to ask me?" asked Ron, in a completely different voice.

"Yes" said Hermione angrily. "But obviously if you'd rather I 'got off with McLaggen..."

"No, I wouldn't" said Ron, in a quiet voice.

Harry and Emma glanced at each other. They'd had an inkling that this might happen sooner or later. But they were not sure how they felt about it... Harry and Cho were now too embarrassed to look at each other, let alone talk to each other; what if Ron and Hermione started going out together, then split up? Could their friendship survive it? Emma remembered the few weeks when they had not been talking to each other in the third year, and how Harry had felt trying to bridge the distance between them. And then, what if they didn't split up? What if they became like Bill and Fleur, and it became excruciatingly embarrassing to be in their presence, so that they were both shut out for good?

The rest of the lesson passed without further mention of Slughorn's party. Although Harry and Emma watched their two friends like a pair of hawks, Ron and Hermione did not seem any different except that they were a little politer to each other than usual. Harry and Emma agreed that they would just have to wait to see what happened under the influence of Butterbeer in Slughorn's dimly lit room on the night of the party. In the meantime, however, they had more pressing worries.

Katie Bell was still in St Mungo's Hospital with no prospect of leaving, which meant that the promising Gryffindor team Harry ad been training so carefully since September with Emma's help was one Chaser short. He kept putting off replacing Katie in the hope she would return, but their opening match against Slytherin was looming and he finally had to accept that she would not be back in time to play.

Harry and Emma both did not think they could stand another full-house tryout. With a sinking feeling that had little to do with Quidditch, Harry cornered Dean Thomas after Transfiguration one day. Most of the class had already left, although several twittering yellow birds were still zooming around the room, all of Hermione's creation; nobody else had succeeded in conjuring so much as a feather from thin air.

"Are you still interested in playing Chaser?"

"What? Yeah, of course!" said Dean excitedly. Over Dean's shoulder Harry saw Seamus Finnigan slamming his books into his bag, looking sour. One of the reasons why Harry and Emma would ave both preferred not to have ask Dean to play was that they knew Seamus would not like it. On the other hand, they had to do what was best for the team, and Dean had out-flown Seamus at the tryouts.

"Well, then, you're in" said Harry. "There's a practice tonight, seven o'clock."

"Right" said Dean. "S=Cheers, harry! Blimey, I can't wait to tell Ginny!"

He sprinted out of the room, leaving Harry and Seamus alone together, an uncomfortable moment made no easier when a bird dropping landed on Seamus's head as one of Hermione's canaries whizzed over them.

Seamus was not the only person disgruntled by the choice of Katie's substitute. There was much muttering in the common room about the face that harry and Emma had now chosen two of their mates for the team. In the end, Emma couldn't take it anymore.

"Alright, shut up!" she shouted over the muttering. "If you have something to say about the choice that was made, you can at least have the guts to say it to our faces."

She glowered around the common room but when no-one spoke up she said "Now, if you could please stop muttering about us. We had enough of that last year and we'd rather not go through it again. Because I know that if Gryffindor win that you lot would forget that you had criticised us and swear that you had always known it was a great team. So I suggest you shut it."

Then she sat down angrily and tried to help Harry with his homework but it became apparent that she was way to stress to work.

But Harry and Emma had no reason to regret their choices once they saw Dean fly that evening; he worked well with Ginny and Demelza. The Beaters, Peakes and Coote, were getting better all the time. The only problem was Ron.

Harry and Emma had known all along that Ron was an inconsistent player who suffered from nerves and a lack of confidence, and unfortunately, the looming prospect of the opening game of the season seemed to have brought out all his old insecurities. After letting in half a dozen goals, most of them scored by Ginny, his technique became wilder and wilder, until he finally punched an oncoming Demelza Robins in the mouth.

"It was an accident, I'm sorry, Demelza, really sorry!" Ron shouted after her as she zigzagged back to the ground dripping blood everywhere. "I just..."

"Panicked" said Ginny said angrily, landing next to Demelza and examining her fat lip. "You prat, Ron, look at the state of her!"

"I can fix that" said Emma, as she and Harry landed beside the two girls pointing her wand at Demelza's mouth and saying _"Episkey"._

"And Ginny, don't call Ron a prat, you're not the captain of this team" Harry added, landing next to Emma.

"Well, you seemed too busy to call him a prat and I thought someone should..."

Harry and Emma forced themselves not to laugh. Emma caught Ginny's eye and winked.

"In the air, everyone, let's go..." Harry called out.

Overall it was one of the worst practices they'd had all term, though Harry and Emma did not feel that honesty was the best policy when they were this close to the match.

"Good work, everyone, I think we'll flatten Slytherin" Harry said bracingly, and the Chasers and Beaters left the changing room looking reasonably happy with themselves.

"I played like a sack of dragon dung" said Ron in a hollow voice when the door had swung shut behind Ginny.

"No you didn't" Emma said firmly, and then glancing round at Harry for some help and support.

"You're the best Keep I tried out, Ron" Harry said. "Your only problem is nerves.

They both kept up a relentless flow of encouragement all the way back to the castle, and by the time they reached the second floor Rpm was looking marginally more cheerful. When Emma pushed open the tapestry to take their usual short cut up to Gryffindor Tower, however, they found themselves looking at Dean and Ginny, who were locked in a close embrace and kissing fiercely as if glued together.

Emma sucked in a breath and looked at Harry worriedly.

It was as though something large and scaly erupted into life in Harry's stomach, clawing at his insides: hot blood seemed to flood his brain, so that all thought was extinguished, replaced by a savage urge to jinx Dean into a jelly. Wrestling with this sudden madness, he heard Ron's voice as though from a great distance away.

"Oi!"

Dean and Ginny broke apart and looked round.

"What?" said Ginny.

"I don't want to find my own sister snogging people in public!"

"This was a deserted corridor till you came butting in!" said Ginny.

Dean was looking embarrassed. He gave Harry a shifty grin that Harry did not return, as the new-born monster inside him was roaring for Dean's instant dismissal from the team/

"Err... come on, Ginny" said Dean "let's go back to the common room..."

"You go!" said Ginny. "I want a word with my dear old brother!"

Dean left, looking as though he was not sorry to depart the scene.

"Right" said Ginny, tossing her long red hair out of her face and glaring at Ron "let's get this straight once and for all. It is none of your business who I go out with or what I do with them, Ron..."

"Yeah, it is!" said Ron, just as angrily. "Do you think I want people saying my sister's a..."

"A what?" shouted Ginny, drawing her wand. "A what, exactly."

"He doesn't mean anything Ginny..." said Harry automatically, though the monster was roaring its approval of Ron's words.

Emma closed her eyes. She didn't want to see this. Oh, she really didn't want to see this.

"Oh yes he does!" she said, flaring up at Harry. "Just because he's never snoged anyone in his life, just because the best kiss he's ever had is from our Auntie Muriel..."

"Shut your mouth!" bellowed Ron, bypassing red and turning maroon.

"No, I will not!" yelled Ginny, beside herself. "I've seen you with Phlegm, hoping she'll kiss you on the cheek every time you see her, its pathetic! If you went out and got a bit of snogging done yourself you wouldn't mind so much that everyone else does it!"

Ron had pulled out his wand too; Harry and Emma stepped swiftly between them.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Ron roared, trying to get a clear shot at Ginny around both Harry, who was now standing in front of her with his arms outstretched, and Emma who was standing in front of him. "Just because I don't do it in public...!"

Ginny screamed with derisive laughter, trying to push Harry out of the way.

"Been kissing Pigwidgeon, have you? Or have you got a picture of Auntie Muriel stashed under your pillow?"

"You..."

A streak of orange light flew under Harry's left arm and under Emma's righ arm, missing Ginny by inches; Harry pushed Ron up against the wall.

"Don't be stupid..."

"Harry's snoged Cho Chang!" shouted Ginny, who sounded close to tears now. "Emma's snoged George! And Hermione snoged Viktor Krum, it's only you who an act like it's something disgusting, Ron, and that's because you've got about as much experience as a twelve-year-old!"

And with that, she stormed away.

"Ginny" Emma called and rushed after her. She followed her all the way to the Room of Requirement.

Ginny dropped into a seat and burst into tears.

"Ginny" Emma sighed, and held the sobbing girl close to her.

"W-why doesn't Ron u-u-understand?" Ginny cried, shaking violently.

"I don't think that's why you're crying" Emma whispered. "I think it's time you spoke your mind, Gin."

"I love Harry" Ginny choked out finally after a long pause. "But he doesn't love me back. And it hurts!"

"Shh" Emma soothed her. "He is as blind as a ding-bat right now. But I think...no...I _know _he's starting to see the light. It won't be long now. Never, ever, ever give up on the person you love, or you'll never get anywhere."

Ginny laughed a weak and tired laugh, but it was a laugh all the same.

"You know" Emma said matter of factly "a friend once told me that the more you smile, the longer you live."

They laughed together and left the Room of Requirement together.

But to Emma and Harry's dismay, Ron's new aggression did not wear off over the next few days. Worse still, it coincided with an even deeper dip in his Keeping skills, which made him still more aggressive, so that during the final Quidditch practice before Saturday's match, he failed to save every single goal the Chasers aimed at him, but bellowed at everybody so much that he reduced Demelza Robins to tears.

"You shut up and leave her alone!" shouted Peakes, who was about two-thirds Ron's height, though admittedly carrying a heavy bat.

"ENOUGH!" Emma shouted, who had seen Ginny glowering in Ron's direction and, remembering her reputation as an accomplished caster of the Bat Bogey Hex, soared over to intervene before things got out of hand. "Peakes; go and pack up the Bludgers. Demelza, pull yourself together, you played really well today."

"Ron..." Harry started, but waited until the rest of the team were out of earshot before carrying on "...you're my best mate, but carry on treating the rest of the team like this and I'm going to have to kick you off the team."

Both Emma and Harry really thought for a moment that Ron might hit Harry, but then something much worse happened: Ron seemed to sag on is broom; all the fight went out of him and he said "I reign. I'm pathetic."

"You're not pathetic and you're not resigning!" said Harry fiercely, seizing Ron by the front of his robes. "You can save anything when you're on form; it's a mental problem you've got!"

"You calling me mental?"

"Yeah, maybe I am!"

"Guys!"

Harry and Ron ignored Emma, and glared at each other for a moment, and then Ron shook his head wearily.

"I know you haven't got any time to find another Keeper, so I'll play tomorrow, but if we lose, and we will, I'm taking myself off the team."

Nothing Harry and Emma said made any difference. They tried boosting Ron's confidence all through dinner, but Ron was too busy being grumpy and surly with Hermione to even notice. Harry and Emma persisted in the common room that evening, but their assertion that the whole team would be devastated if Ron left was somewhat undermined by the fact that the rest of the team was sitting in a huddle in a distant corner, clearly muttering about Ron and casting him nasty looks which Emma returned with glares. Finally, they tried getting angry again in the hope of provoking Ron into a defiant, and hopefully goal-saving, attitude, but this strategy did not appear to work any better than encouragement; Ron went to bed as dejected and hopeless as ever.

Harry laid wake for a very long time in the darkness. He did not want to lose the upcoming match; not only was it his first as Captain, but he was determined to beat Draco Malfoy at Quidditch even if he could not yet prove his suspicions about him. Yet if Ron plated as he had done in the last few practises, their chances of winning were very slim...

If only there was something he and Emma could do to make Ron pull himself together... make him play at the top of his form... something that would ensure that Ron had a really good day...

And the answer came to Harry in one, sudden, glorious stork of inspiration.

Breakfast was the usual excitable affair next morning; the Slytherins hissed and booed loudly as every member of the Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall. Harry and Emma glanced at the ceiling and saw a clear, pale blue sky: a good omen.

The Gryffindor table, a solid mass of red and gold, cheered as Harry, Emma and Ron approached. Harry and Emma both grinned and waved; Ron merely grimaced weakly and shook his head.

"Cheer up, Ron!" called Lavender, causing Emma to grimace ever so slightly. "I know you'll be brilliant!"

Ron ignored her.

"Tea?" Harry asked him. "Coffee? Pumpkin Juice?"

"Anything" said Ron glumly, taking a moody bite of toast.

A few minutes later Hermione, who had become so tired of Ron's recent unpleasant behaviour that she had not come down to breakfast with them, pausing on his way up the table.

"How are you both feeling?" she asked tentatively, her eyes on the back of Ron's head.

"Fine" said Harry, who was concentrating on handing Ron a glass of pumpkin juice. "There you go, Ron. Drink up."

Emma realised just then what Harry was doing, and bit her lip to stop herself from talking. After all, Harry obviously didn't want her to.

Ron had just raised the glass to his lips when Hermione spoke sharply.

"Don't drink that, Ron!"

Harry, Emma and Ron looked up at her.

"Why not?" said Ron.

Hermione was now staring at Harry as though she could not believe her eyes, and then looked at Emma, narrowing her eyes slightly when she noticed that Emma knew too.

"You just put something in that drink, Harry."

"Excuse me?" said Harry, and Emma raised her eyebrows.

"You heard me. I saw you. You just tipped something into Ron's drink. You've got the bottle in your hand right now!"

"I didn't know what you're talking about" said Harry, as Emma hastily took the little bottle from his hand and stuffing it into her pocket.

"Ron, I warn you, don't drink it!" Hermione said again, alarmed, but Ron picked up the glass, drained it in one and said "Stop bossing em around, Hermione."

She looked scandalised. Bending low so that only Harry and Emma could hear her she hissed "You two should be expelled for that. I'd never have believed it of you two!"

"Hark who's talking" he whispered back. "Confunded anyone lately?"

She stormed up the table away from them. Harry and Emma watched her go without regret. Hermione had never really understood what a serious business Quidditch was. They then looked around at Ron, who was smacking his lips.

"Nearly time" said Emma blithely.

The frosty grass crunched underfoot as they strode down to the stadium.

"Pretty lucky the weather's this good, eh?" Harry asked Ron.

"Yeah" said Ron, who was pale and sick-looking. Emma gave him a sympathetic look.

Ginny and Demelza were already wearing their Quidditch robes and waiting in the changing room.

"Conditions look ideal" said Ginny, ignoring Ron completely. "And guess what? That Slytherin Chaser Vaisey- he took a Bludger in the head yesterday during their practice, and he's too sore to play! And even better than that- Malfoy's gone off sick too!"

"What?" said Harry and Emma together, wheeling round to stare at her. "He's ill? What's wrong with him?"

"No idea but it's great for us" said Ginny brightly. "They're playing Harper instead; he's in my year and he's an idiot."

Emma and Harry smiled vaguely back, but as Harry pulled on his scarlet robes his mind was far from Quidditch. Malfoy had once before claimed he could not play due to injury, but on that occasion he had made sure the whole match was rescheduled for a time that suited the Slytherins better. Why was he now happy to let a substitute go on? Was he really ill, or was he just faking it?

"Fishy, isn't it?" Harry said in an undertone to Ron and Emma. "Malfoy not playing."

"Lucky, I call it" said Ron, looking slightly more animated. "And Vaisey off too, he's their best goal-scorer, I didn't fancy... hey!" he said suddenly, freezing halfway through pulling on his Keeper's gloves and staring at Harry and Emma?"

"What?" they chorused.

"I...you..." Ron had dropped his voice; he looked both scared and excited. "My drink...my pumpkin juice...you didn't...?"

Harry and Emma raised their eyebrows, but all that was said was "We'll be starting in about five minutes; you'd better get your boots on."

They walked out on to the pitch, leaving Emma behind who went to sit and watch in the crowd, to tumultuous roars and boos. One end of the stadium was solid red and gold; the other, a sea of green and silver. Many Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had taken sides too: amidst all the yelling and clapping Harry could distinctly hear the roar of Luna Lovegood's famous lion-topped hat.

Harry stepped up to Madam Hooch, the referee, who was standing ready to release the balls from the crate.

"Captains, shake hands" she said, and Harry had his hand crushed by the new Slytherin Captain, Urquhart. "Mount your broom. On the whistle...three...two...one..."

The whistle sounded, Harry and the others kicked off hard from the frozen ground, and they were away.

At the end of the match, the Gryffindors and some of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw went nuts as Harry caught the snitch.

"Whoa!" Emma screamed and ran onto the pitch to meet Harry.

"YES!" Harry yelled: wheeling round, he hurtled back towards the ground, the Snitch held high in his hand. As he landed on the ground, Emma literally jumped into his arms and nearly knocking him off his feet and broom.

"Ginny, where are you going?" yelled Emma, who had found herself trapped in the midst of the rest of the team while they hugged Harry, but Ginny sped right on past them until, with an almighty crash, she collided with the commentator's podium. As the crowd shrieked and laughed, the Gryffindor team landed beside the wreckage of wood under which Zacharias was feebly stirring; Harry and Emma heard Ginny saying blithely to an irate Professor McGonagall "Forgot to brake, Professor, sorry."

Laughing, Harry broke free of the rest of the team and hugged Ginny, but let go very quickly. Avoiding her gaze, he clapped a cheering Ron on the back instead as, all enmity forgotten, the Gryffindor team left the pitch arm in arm along with Emma, punching the air and waving to their supporters. Emma Harry a knowing look before congratulating Ron as they walked.

The atmosphere in the changing room was jubilant.

"Party up in the common room, Seamus said!" yelled Dean exuberantly. "Come on, Ginny, Demelza!"

Ron, Harry and Emma were the last three in the changing room. They were just about to leave when Hermione entered. She was twisting her Gryffindor scarf in her hands and looked upset but determined.

"I want a word with you Harry. And you too, Emma." She took a deep breath. "You shouldn't have done it, Harry, and you knew, Emma! You heard Slughorn, its illegal."

"What are you going to do, turn us in?" demanded Ron.

"What are you two talking about?" asked Ron, turning away to hang up his robes and Emma turned to help him so that neither of them would see them grinning.

"You know perfectly well what we're talking about!" said Hermione shrilly. "You spiked Ron's juice with lucky potion at breakfast! Felix Felicis!"

"No, he didn't" said Emma, as they both turned back to face them both.

"Yes, he did, Emma, and that's why everything went right, there were Slytherin players missing and Ron saved everything!"

"I didn't put it in!" said Harry, now grinning broadly. He slipped his hand inside his jacket pocket and drew out the tiny bottle that Hermione had seen in his hand that morning. It was full of golden potion and the cork was still tightly sealed with wax. "I wanted Ron to think I'd done it, so I faked it when I knew you were looking." He looked at Ron. "You saved everything because you felt lucky. You did it all yourself."

He pocketed the potion again.

"There really wasn't anything in my pumpkin juice?" Ron said, astounded. "But the weather's good... and Vaisey couldn't play... I honestly haven't been given lucky potion?"

Harry and Emma shook their heads. Ron gaped at them for a moment, and then rounded on Hermione, imitating her voice.

"_You added Felix Felicis to Ron's juice this morning, that's why he saved everything! _See! I can save goals without help, Hermione!"

"I never said you couldn't- Ron, you thought you'd been given it, too!"

But Ron had already strode past her out of the door with his broomstick over his shoulder.

"Err" said Harry into the sudden silence; he had not expected his plan to backfire like this "shall... shall we got up to the party, then?"

"You go!" said Hermione, blinking back tears. "I'm sick of Ron at the moment; I don't know what I'm supposed to have done..."

And she stormed out of the changing room, too.

"You can't have everything your own way" Emma said sympathetically to Emma.

Harry and Emma walked slowly back up the grounds towards the castle through the crowd, many of whom shouted congratulations to Harry, but Harry felt a great sense of let-down; he had been sure that if Ron won the match, he and Hermione would be friends again immediately. He did not see how he could possibly explain to Hermione that what she had done to offend Ron was kiss Viktor Krum, not when the offence had occurred so long ago.

Neither of them could see Hermione at the Gryffindor celebration party, which was in full swing when they arrived. Renewed cheers and clapping greeted Harry's appearance and they were soon surrounded by a mob of people congratulating Harry. What with trying to shake off the Creevey brothers, who wanted a blow-by-blow match analysis, and the large group of girls and boys that encircled them, laughing at their least amusing comments and giving them flirtish looks, it was some time before they could try and find Ron. At last, they extricated themselves from the crows. As they were ducking towards the drinks table they walked straight into Ginny, Arnold the Pygmy Puff riding on her shoulder and Crookshanks mewing hopefully at her heels.

"Looking for Ron?" she asked, smirking. "He's over there, the filthy hypocrite."

Harry and Emma looked into the corner she was indicating. There, in full view of the whole room, stood Ron wrapped so closely around Lavender Brown it was hard to tell whose hands were whose.

"It looks like he's eating her face, doesn't it?" said Ginny dispassionately. "But I suppose he's got the refine his technique somehow. Good game, Harry."

She patted him on the arm; Harry felt a swooping sensation in his stomach, bit then she walked off to help herself to more Butterbeer. Crookshanks trotted after her, his yellow eyes fixed upon Arnold.

They turned away from Ron, who did not look like surfacing soon, just in time to see the portrait hole closing. With a sinking feeling they thought they saw a mane of bushy brown hair whipping out of sight.

Emma grabbed Harry's hand and they darted forwards, sidestepped Romilda Vane and the Creevey brothers again, and pushed open the portrait of the Fat lady. The corridor outside seemed to be deserted.

"Hermione?" Emma called.

They found her in the first unlocked classroom they tried. She was sitting on the teacher's desk, alone except for a small ring of twittering yellow birds circling her head, which she had clearly just conjured out of midair. They could not help themselves but admire her spellwork at a time like this.

"Oh, hello, you two" she said in a brittle voice. "I was just practising."

"Yeah, they're brilliant" Emma said softly, sitting down next to her.

"Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations" said Hermione in unnaturally high-pitched voice.

"Err...does he?" said Harry.

"Don't pretend you didn't see him" said Hermione. "He wasn't exactly hiding it, was..."

The door behind them burst open. To Harry and Emma's horror, Ron came in, laughing, pulling Lavender by the hand.

"Oh" he said, drawing up short at the sight of Harry, Emma and Hermione.

"Oops!" said Lavender, and she backed out of the room, giggling. The door swing shut behind her.

There was a horrible swelling, billowing silence. Hermione was staring at Ron, who refused to look at her, but said with an odd mixture of bravado and awkwardness "Hi, you two! Wondered where you'd got to!"

Hermione slid off the desk. The little flock of golden birds continued to twitter in circles around her head so that she looked like someone with a feathery hallow.

"You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside" she said quietly. "She'll wonder where you've gone."

She walked very slowly and erectly towards the door. Harry and Emma glanced at Ron, who was looking relieved that nothing worse had happened.

"_Oppugno!" _came a shriek from the doorway.

They spun round to see Hermione pointing her wand at Ron, her expression wild: the little flock of birds was speeding like a hail of fat golden bullets towards Ron, who yelped and covered his face with his hands, but the birds attacked, pecking and clawing at every bit of flesh they could reach.

"Gerremoffme!" he yelled, but with one last look of vindictive fury, Hermione wrenched open the door and disappeared through it. Harry though he heard a sob before it slammed.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The Unbreakable Vow

Snow was swirling against the icy windows once more; Christmas was approaching fast. Hagrid had already single-handedly delivered the usual twelve Christmas trees for the Great Hall; garlands of holly and tinsel had been twisted around the banisters of the stairs; everlasting candles glowed from inside the helmets of suits of armours and great bunches of mistletoe had been hung at intervals along the corridors. Large groups of both girls and boys tended to converge underneath the mistletoe bunches every time Harry and Emma went past, which caused blockages in the corridors; fortunately, however, Harry's frequent night-time wanderings and Emma's duty to follow him had given them an unusually good knowledge of the castle's secret passageways, so that they were able, without too much difficulty, to navigate mistletoe-free routes between classes and so on.

Ron, who might once have found the necessity of these detours a cause for jealousy rather than hilarity, simply roared with laughter about it all. Although Harry and Emma both preferred this new laughing, joking Ron to the moody, aggressive model they had been enduring for the last few weeks, the improved Ron came with a heavy price. Firstly, they had to put up with the frequent presence of Lavender Brown, who seemed to regard any moment that she was not kissing Ron as a moment wasted; and secondly, they found themselves, once more, the best friends of two people who seemed unlikely ever to speak to each other again.

Ron, whose hands and forearms still bore scratches and cuts from Hermione's bird attack, was taking a defensive and resentful tone.

"She can't complain" he told Harry and Emma. "She snogged Krum. So she's found out someone wants to snog me. Well, it's a free country. I haven't done anything wrong."

Harry did not answer, but pretended to be absorbed in the book they were supposed to have read before Charms the following morning. Determined as he was to remain friends with both Ron and Hermione, he was spending a lot of time with his mouth shut tight. He could tell that Emma was dying to knock Hermione and Ron around the head with a bat and scream at them. But she wasn't allowed to interfere with human events unless it was an emergency and so became very frustrated whenever the situation was mentioned which, of course, Harry found pretty funny.

"I never promised Hermione anything" Ron mumbled. "I mean, all right, I was going to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with her, but she never said...just as friends...I'm a free agent..."

Harry turned a page of his book, aware that Ron was watching him. Emma was glowering into the fireplace, muttering about something along the lines of 'stupid laws' and 'they're as blind as ding-bats'.

Hermione's timetable was so full that Harry and Emma could only talk to her properly in the evenings, when Ron was in any case so tightly wrapped around Lavender that he did not notice what they were doing. Hermione refused to sit in the common room while Ron was there, so Harry and Emma generally joined her in the library, which meant that their conversations were held in whispers.

"He's at perfect liberty to kiss whomever he likes" said Hermione, while the librarian, Madam Prince, prowled the shelves behind them. "I really couldn't care less."

She raised her quill and dotted an 'i' so ferociously that she punctured a hole in her parchment that Emma hastily fixed with her wand, but neither her nor Harry said anything.

"And incidentally" said Hermione, after a few moments "you two need to be careful."

"Why?" Emma asked, reading Harry's book up-side-down.

"I went into the girls' bathroom just before I came in here and there were about a dozen girls in there, including Romilda Vane, trying to decide how to slip Harry a love Potion. And I overheard guys thinking on the same lines for you, Emma. They're all hoping they're going to get you to take them to Slughorn's party and they all seem to have bought Fred and George's love potions, which I'm afraid to say probably work..."

"Why didn't you confiscate them, then?" demanded Harry. It seemed extraordinary that Hermione's mania for upholding rules could have abandoned her at this crucial juncture.

"They didn't have the potions with them in the bathroom" said Hermione scornfully. "They were just discussing tactics. You two better get dates soon. Its tomorrow night, and they're getting desperate."

"There isn't anyone I want to invite" mumbled Harry, who was still trying not to think about Ginny any more than he could help.

"I'm going with George" said Emma, giving Harry a look that reminded him so much of Dumbledore when he gave Harry a look that made him feel like he was being x-rayed.

"Well, just be careful what you drink, because they all look like they mean business" said Hermione grimly.

"Can't Filch detect it with his detective-thingies?" Harry grumbled.

"No" sighed. "Secrecy Sensors detect jinxes, curses and concealment charms. They're used to find Dark magic and Dark objects. They'd have picked up a powerful curse within seconds. But something that's just been put in the wrong bottle wouldn't register- and anyway, love potions aren't Dark or dangerous..."

"Easy for you to say" muttered Harry and Emma together, thinking of Romilda Vane and the Creevey Brothers.

"...so it would be down to Filch to realise it wasn't a cough potion, and he's not a very good wizard, I doubt he can tell one potion from..."

Hermione stopped dead; Harry and Emma had both heard it too. Somebody had moved close behind them among the dark bookshelves. They waited and a moment later the vulture-like countenance of Madam Pince appeared round the corner, her sunken cheeks, her skin like parchment and her long hooked nose illuminated unflatteringly by the lamp she was carrying.

"The library is now closed" she said. "Mind you return anything you have borrowed to the correct- _what have you been doing to that book, you depraved boy?"_

"It isn't the library's, it's mine!" said Harry hastily, snatching his copy of the _Advanced Potion-Making _off the table as she lunged at it with a claw like hand.

"Despoiled!" she hissed. "Desecrated! Befouled!"

"It's just a book that's been written in!" said Harry, tugging it out of her grip.

She looked as though she might have a seizure; Hermione, who had hastily packed her things, grabbed Harry by the arm and frogmarched him away with Emma trailing behind them, looking highly amused.

"She'll ban you from the library if you're not careful. Why did you have to bring that stupid book?" Hermione demanded.

"It's not my fault she's barking mad, Hermione. Or do you think she overheard you being rude about Filch? I've always thought there might be something going on between then..."

"Oh, ha, ha..."

Emma laughed and shook her head.

Enjoying the fact that they could speak normally again, they made their way along the deserted, lamp-lit corridors back to the common room, arguing about whether or not Filch and Madam Pince were secretly in love with each other.

"Baubles" said Emma to the Fat Lady, this being the new, festive password.

"Same to you" said the Fat Lady with a roguish grin, and she swung forwards to admit them.

"Hi, Harry!" said Romilda Vane, the moment he had climbed through the portrait hole. "Fancy a Gillywater?"

Hermione gave him a 'What-did-I-tell-you?' look over her shoulder. Emma walked with her, dodging the Creevey brothers.

"No thanks" said Harry quickly. "I don't like it much."

"Well, take these anyway" said Romilda, thrusting a box into his hands. "Chocolate Cauldrons, they've got Firewhisky in them. My gran sent them to me, but I don't like them."

"Oh...right...thanks a lot" said Harry, who could not think what else to say. "Err...I'm just going over here with..."

He hurried off behind Hermione and Emma, his voice tailing away feebly.

"Told you so" said Hermione succinctly. "Sooner you ask someone, sooner they will all leave you alone and you can..."

But her face suddenly turned blank; she had just spotted Ron and Lavender who were entwined in the same armchair.

"Well, goodnight, you two" said Hermione, though it was only seven o'clock in the evening, and she left for the girl's dormitory without another word.

Harry went to bed comforting himself that there was only one more day of lessons to struggle through, plus Slughorn's party, after which he, Emma and Ron would depart together for The Burrow. It now seemed impossible that Ron and Hermione would make up with each other before the holidays began, but perhaps, somehow, the break would give them time to calm down, think better of their behaviours...

Then he remembered that both Ron and Hermione were invited to Emma's wedding and so that wouldn't give them much of a break to think about it much, and his hopes seemed to sink lower than the earth.

The next day, Harry bumped into Luna and Hermione coming out of the bathroom. He didn't miss the fact that Hermione was drying her eyes on her pencil case.

"Oh, hello, Harry" said Luna. "Did you know one of your eyebrows is bright yellow?"

"Hi, Luna. Hi, Hermione."

"Hello, Harry" said Hermione in a choked voice, and turning away quickly to hid the fact that she had been crying even though it was pretty obvious. "Well, I'd better get going..."

And she hurried off, without giving Harry any time to offer words of comfort, though admittedly he could not think of any.

"She's a bit upset" said Luna. "I thought at first it was Moaning Myrtle in there, but it turned out to be Hermione. She said something about Ron Weasley..."

"Yeah, they've had a row" said Emma's voice from behind Harry. "Hey, Luna."

"Hi Emma" Luna greeted her. "He does say very funny things sometimes, doesn't her? But he can be a bit unkind. I noticed that last year."

"I suppose" said Harry. Luna was demonstrating her usual knack of speaking uncomfortable truths; he had never met anyone quite like her.

"So have you had a good term?" Emma asked casually, seeming quite the opposite of Harry.

"Oh, it's been all right" said Luna. "A bit lonely without the DA. Ginny's been nice, though. She stopped two boys in our Transfiguration class calling me 'Loony' the other day..."

"How would you like to come to Slughorn's party with me tonight?"

The words were out of Harry's mouth before he could stop them; he heard himself say them as though it were a stranger speaking.

Luna turned her protuberant eyes upon him in surprise. Even Emma seemed shocked, but looking quite pleased and pretended to examine a suit of armour.

"Slughorn's party? With you?"

"Yeah" said Harry. "We're supposed to bring guests, so I thought you might like...I mean..." He was keen to make his intentions perfectly clear. "I mean, just as friends, you know. But if you don't want to..."

He was already half-hoping that she didn't want to.

"Oh, no, I'd love to go with you as friends!" said Luna, beaming as he had never seen her beam before. "Nobody's ever asked me to a party before, as a friend! Is that why you dyed your eyebrow, for the party? Should I do mine too?"

"No" sad Harry firmly "that was a mistake. So, I'll meet you in the Entrance Hall at eight o'clock, then."

"AHA!" screamed a voice from overhead and all of them jumped; unnoticed by any of them, they had just passed right underneath Peeves, who was handing upside-down from a chandelier and grinning maliciously at them.

"Potty asked Loony to go to the party! Potty lurves Loony! Potty luuuuuurves Looooooony!"

"Nice to keep these things private" said Harry. And sure enough, in no time at all, the whole school seemed to know that Harry Potter was taking Luna Lovegood to Slughorn's party.

"You could've taken anyone!" said Ron in disbelief over dinner. "Anyone! And you chose Loony Lovegood?"

"Don't call her than, Ron" said Ginny and Emma together automatically as Ginny paused behind Harry on her way to join her friends.

"I'm really glad you're taking her, Harry" Ginny smiled. "She's so excited."

And she moved on down the table to sit with Dean. Harry tried to feel pleased that Ginny was glad he was taking Luna to the party, but could not quite manage it. A long way along the table, Hermione was sitting alone, playing with her stew. Harry and Emma noticed Ron looking at her furtively.

"You could say sorry" suggested Emma bluntly. Apparently she had heard about the incident in Transfiguration.

"What, and get attacked by another flock of canaries? I don't think so" muttered Ron.

"What did you have to imitate her for?" Harry sighed.

"She laughed at my moustache!"

"So did I, it was the most stupidest thing I had ever seen."

But Ron did not seem to have heard; Lavender had just arrived with Parvati. Squeezing herself in between Harry and Ron, Lavender flung her arms around Ron's neck.

"Hi, Harry, Hi Emma" said Parvati who, like Harry and Emma, looked faintly embarrassed and bored by the behaviours of their two friends.

"Hi" Harry and Emma chorused.

"How are you?" Emma asked. "I heard your parents wanted you to leave."

"I managed to talk them out of it for the time being" said Parvati. "That Katie thing really freaked them out, but as there hasn't been anything since...oh, hi, Hermione!"

Parvati positively beamed. Harry and Emma could tell that she was feeling guilty for having laughed at Hermione in Transfiguration. They looked around and saw that Hermione was beaming back, if possible even more brightly.

"Girls are very strange sometimes" Harry muttered.

"You'll see" Emma breathed so no-one but him could hear her.

"Hi, Parvati!" said Hermione, ignoring Ron and Lavender completely. "Are you going to Slughorn's party tonight?"

"Not invited" said Parvati gloomily. "I would love to go, though, it sounds like it's going to be really good...you're going, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm meeting Cormac at eight and we're..."

There was a noise like a plunger being withdrawn from a blocked sink and Ron surfaced. Hermione acted as though she had not seen or heard anything.

"Oh my gosh!" said Emma, getting out of her seat. "Cormac as in Cormac McLaggen?"

"That's right" said Hermione sweetly. "The one who almost" she put a great deal of emphasis on the word "became the Gryffindor Keep."

"Are you going out with him, then?" asked Parvati, wide-eyed.

"Oh...yes...didn't you know?" said Hermione, with a most un-Hermione-ish giggle.

"No!" said Emma, and Parvati looked positively agog at this piece of gossip. "Wow, Hermione, you like your Quidditch players, don't you? First Krum, then McLaggen..."

"I like really good Quidditch players" Hermione corrected her, still smiling. "Well, see you...got to go and get ready for the party..."

She left. At once Lavender and Parvati put their heads together to discuss this new development, with everythin they had ever heard about McLaggen, and all they had ever guessed about Hermione. Ron looked strangely blank and said nothing. Harry watch Emma carefully as he pondered in silence the depths to which girls would sink to get revenge.

Emma ran up to Dumbledore's office where her room was to get ready. She had chosen to wear a sleeveless long red dress that went right down to her feet. It was covered in sparkles on the lower half as well.

She met George at the Entrance Hall at eight o'clock, where harry was meeting Luna as well. She grinned at George when he came into view.

"Hey, love, how are you?" George whispered in her ear.

"Better now I'm with you" she winked. Turning to Harry and Luna she said "Shall we get going, then?"

"Oh, yes" Luna said happily. George gave at Emma a look but she just shook her head. "Where is the party?"

"Slughorn's office" said Harry, leading the three of them up the marble staircase away from all the staring and muttering. "Did you hear, there's supposed to be a vampire coming?"

"What other than me?" Emma said, surprised.

"Yes, other than you" Harry laughed, rolling his eyes at her.

"Oh dear."

"You mean Rufus Scrimgeour?" asked Luna.

"I- what?" said Harry, disconcerted. "You mean the Minister for Magic?"

"Yes, he's a vampire" said Luna matter-of-factly. "Father wrote a very long article about it when Scrimgeour first took over from Cornelius Fudge, but he was forced not to publish by someone from the Ministry. Obviously, they didn't want the truth to get out!"

Harry and Emma, who both thought it most unlikely that Rufus Scrimgeour was a vampire, but they were used to Luna repeating her father's bizarre views as though they were fact, did not reply; they were already approaching Slughorn's office and the sounds of laughter, music and loud conversation were growing loud with every step they took.

Whether it had been built that way, or because he had used magical trickery to make it so, Slughorn's office was much larger than the usual teacher's study. The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson and gold hangings, so that it looked as though they were all inside a vast tent. The room was crowded and stuffy and bathed in the red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the centre of the ceiling in which real fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light. Loud singing accompanied by what sounded like mandolins issued from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hung over several elderly warlocks deep in conversation, and a number of house-elves were negotiating their way squeakily through the forst of knees, obscured by the heavy silver platters of food they were bearing, so that they looked like little roving table.

"Ah, Harry and Emma!" boomed Slughorn, almost as soon as Harry, Emma, Luna and George had squeezed in through the door. "Come in; come in, so many people I'd like you two to meet!"

Slughorn was wearing a tasselled velvet hat to match his smoking jacket. Gripping Harry and Emma's arms so tightly he might have been hoping to Disapparate with them, Slughorn led them purposefully into the party; Harry seized Luna's hand and Emma did the same to George and dragged them along with them.

"Harry, Emma, I'd like you to meet Eldred Worple, an old student of mine, author of _Blood Brothers: My life Amongst the Vampires- _and, of course, his friend Sanguini."

Worple, who was a small, bespectacled man, grabbed Harry and Emma's hands and shoot them enthusiastically in turn.

"Hello Mr Worple" Emma said politely, but not looking at him. She was eyeing the vampire, Sangini, who was tall and emaciated with dark shadows under his eyes, with slightly worry.

"Please, call me Eldred" said Worple. "Oh, don't worry about Sanguini, he won't hurt you."

"It wasn't me that I was worried about" Emma muttered. "Anyway, it's lovely to meet you to, Sanguini."

He shook her hand, looking at her warily.

"Don't worry" Emma grinned "I don't bite."

Sanguini cracked a smile.

"Well, I am simply delighted to finally meet the two Potters!" said Worple, peering short-sightedly up into Harry's face and down at Emma's. "I was saying to Professor Slughorn only the other day. Where is the biography of Harry and Emma for which we've all been waiting?"

"Were you?" said Emma, looking bemused.

"Just as modest as Horace described!" said Worple. "But seriously, I would be delighted to write it myself- people are crabbing t know more about you two! If you were both prepared to grant me a few interviews, say in four- or five hour sessions, why, we could have the book finished within months. And all with very little effort on your parts, I assure you- ask Sanguini here if it isn't quite..."

But Emma cut him off by saying sharply and sternly to Sanguini "Stay here!" for the vampire had been edging towards the nearby group of girls, a rather hungry look in his eye.

"Here, have a pasty" said Worple, seizing one from a passing elf and stuffing it into Sanguini's hand before turning his attention back to Harry and Emma.

"My dear, the gold you two could make, you have no idea..."

"We are definitely not interested" said Harry firmly "and I've just seen a friend of mine, sorry."

He pulled Luna and Emma who pulled George into the crowd; he had indeed just seen a long mane of brown hair disappear between what looked like two members of the Weird Sisters.

"Hermione! Hermione!"

"Harry! Emma! There you two are, thank goodness! Hi, Luna, hi George!"

"What the hell happened to you?" Emma asked, for Hermione looked distinctly dishevelled, rather as though she had just fought her way out of a thicket of Devil's Snare.

"Oh, I've just escaped- I mean, I've just left Cormac" she said. "Under the mistletoe" she added in explanation, as Harry and Emma continued to look questioningly at her.

"Serves you right for coming with him" Harry told her severely.

"I thought he'd annoy Ron most" said Hermione dispassionately. "I debated for a while about Zacharias Smith, but I thought, on the whole..."

"You considered Smith?" said Harry, revolted.

"Yes, she did" Emma chuckled, leaning against George's chest and sighing happily.

"I'm starting to wish I had chosen him" Hermione muttered, "McLaggen makes Grawp look like a gentleman. Let's go this way, we'll be able to see him coming, he's so tall..."

The four of them made their way over to the other side of the room, scooping up goblets if mead on the way, realising too that Professor Trelawney was standing there alone.

"Hello" said Luna politely.

Professor Trelawney seemed too tipsy to have recognised Harry and Emma. Under cover of her furious criticisms of Firenze, Harry drew closer to Hermione and Emma and said "Let's get something straight. Are you planning to tell Ron that you interfered at Keep tryouts?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"I'll do it if Hermione does it" Emma shrugged, still leaning into George again.

"You interfered at the Keepers Tryouts?" George asked in disbelief, his eyebrow raised. "Damn, Hermione, your bader than I thought."

"Do you really think I'd stood that low?" Hermione asked, ignoring George's comment completely.

Harry looked at her shrewdly.

"Hermione, if you can ask out McLaggen..."

"There's a difference" said Hermione with dignity. "I've got no plans to tell Ron anything about what might, or might not, have happened at Keeper tryouts."

"Good" said Harry fervently.

"Oh no, here he comes!"

Hermione moved so fast it was though she had Disapparated; one moment she was there, the next she had squeezed between two guffawing witches and vanished.

"Seen Hermione" asked McLaggen, forcing his way through the throng a minute later.

"No, sorry" Emma said, before the three of them turned quickly to join in Luna's conversation, forgetting for a split second to whom she was talking.

"Harry and Emma Potter!" said Professor Trelawney in deep, vibrant tones, noticing them for the first time.

"Hello Professor" said Emma unenthusiastically.

"My dears!" she said in a very carrying whispered. "The rumours! The stories! The Chosen Ones! Of course, I have known for a very long time...the omens were never good for either of you...but why have you not returned to Divination, Harry? For you, of all people, the subject is of the utmost importance! Your sister is still coming to see me about her visions."

Harry glanced at Emma incredulously who hissed "Honestly, she's not that bad!"

Emma eyes darted towards the door, then to George, then to Harry and then to Trelawney. Harry wondered what that was about but didn't say anything.

"Ah, Sybill, we all think our subject's most important!" said a loud voice, and Slughorn appeared at Professor Trelawney's other side, his face very red, his velvet hat a little askew, a glass of mead in one hand and an enormous mince pit in the other. "But I don't think I have ever known such a natural at Potions than there two!" said Slughorn, regarding both Harry and Emma with a found, if bloodshot, eye. "Instinctive, you know- like their mother! I've only ever taught a few with his kind of ability, I can tell you that, Sybill- why, even Severus..."

And to Harry's horror and Emma's amusement, Slughorn threw out an arm and seemed to scoop Snape out of thin air towards them.

"Stop skulking and come and join us, Severus!" hiccoughed Slughorn happily. "I was just talking about Harry and Emma's exceptional potion-making! Some credit must go to you, of course, you taught him for five years!"

Trapped, with Slughorn's arm around his shoulders, Snape looked down his hooked nose at Harry and Emma, his black eyes narrowed.

"Funny, Miss Potter maybe, but I never had the impression that I managed to teach Mr Potter anything at all."

"Well, then, its natural ability!" shouted Slughorn. "You should have been what Harry gave me, first lesson, the Draught of Living Death- never had a student produce finer on a first attempt, and I don't think even you, Severus."

"Really?" said Snape quietly, his eyes still boring into Emma and Harry, who felt a certain disquiet. The last thing he wanted was for Snape to start investigating the source of his new-found brilliance at Potions. Emma, however, didn't seem at all worried.

"Remind me what other subjects you're taking, Harry?" asked Slughorn.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology..."

"All the subjects required, in short, for an Auror" said Snape, with the faintest sneer.

"Yeah, well, that's what I'd like to be" said Harry defiantly.

"And a great one you'll make, too!" boomed Slughorn. "And you, Emma, what lessons are you taking?"

"Oh, I'm not taking my lessons this year, sir" Emma smiled. "Being a vampire does have some perks."

"Ah, yes, yes" Slughorn smiled, though Harry thought he would have preferred to have Emma in his lessons rather than out.

Emma's eyebrows shot up and Harry followed her stair. Draco Malfoy was being dragged by the ear towards them by Argus Filch.

"Professor Slughorn" wheezed Filch, his jowls aquiver and the maniacal light of mischief-detention in his bulging eyes. "I discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party and to have been delayed in setting out. Did you issue him with an invitation?"

Malfoy pulled himself free of Filch's grip, looking furious.

"All right, I wasn't invited!" he said angrily. "I was trying to gatecrash, happy?"

"NO, I'm not!" said Filch, a statement at complete odds with the glee on his face. "You are in trouble, you are! Didn't the Headmaster say that night-time prowling's out, unless you've got permission, didn't he, eh?"

"That's all right, Argus, that's all right" said Slughorn, waving a hand. "It's Christmas, and it's not a crime to want to come to a party. Just this once, we'll forget any punishment; you may stay, Draco."

Filch's expression of outraged disappointment was perfectly predictable; but why, Harry and Emma wondered, watching him, did Malfoy look almost equally unhappy? And why was Snape looking at Malfoy as though both angry and...was it possible?...a little afraid?

But almost before they had registered what they had seen, Filch had turned and shuffled away, muttering under his breath; Malfoy had composed his face into a smile and was thanking Slughorn for his generosity, and Snape's face was smoothly inscrutable again.

"It's nothing, nothing" said Slughorn, waving away Malfoy's thanks. "I did know your grandfather, after all..."

"He always spoke very highly of you, sir" said Malfoy quickly. "Said you were the best potion-maker he'd ever known..."

Emma studied Malfoy more closely. He did, in fact, look ill, with the dark shadows under his eyes and distinctly greyish tinge to his skin. No matter how much she hated the Malfoys, she couldn't help but feel a little worried for him.

"I'd like a word with you, Draco" said Snape suddenly.

"Oh, now, Severus" said Slughorn, hiccoughing again. "It's Christmas, don't be too hard..."

"I'm his Head of House, and I shall decide how hard, or otherwise, to be" said Snape curtly. "Follow me Draco."

They left, Snape leading the way, Malfoy looking resentful. Harry stood there for a moment, irresolute, then said "I'll be back in a bit, Luna- er- bathroom."

But Emma caught his arm before he could leave and he shot her an irritated look.

"Be careful" she warned in, worry obvious in her eyes and he nodded before leaving. She sighed before slumping into George's arms.

"He'll be fine" George reassured her. "Don't forget he's faced you-know-who and worse."

"I know" she mumbled. "Doesn't mean I don't worry."

George rolled his eyes before pulling her onto the dance floor and getting her to dance. It wasn't long before she was enjoying herself.


End file.
